


Stall for (Borrowed) Time

by WynterTwylight



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eobard and Barry eat crepes, Eobard and Barry eat shrimp, Eobard is an art history nerd, Eobarry, Eventual Smut, Fluff, I love these dorks, Kilts, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Storytelling, adventures in Ireland, around the world in eighty seconds, barrison, didn't expect this to have more than one chapter, new york city shenanigans, so is barry, suggestive meat eating, there IS backstory, they go to Paris, travelling, world tour
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-06-07 13:36:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6807043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WynterTwylight/pseuds/WynterTwylight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry Allen challenges Eobard Thawne to an epic race around the world, and Eobard takes him up on it immediately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Around the World in Eighty Seconds

**Author's Note:**

> This fandom is destroying me, blissfully, and I thank CardinalStar for dragging me into the trash can.

“And how fast do _you_ think you could run around the world?” Eobard said, quirking a dark brow at Barry, who immediately responded with a shocked laugh.

“Faster than you.” Barry leveled his gaze with Eobard, lightning flashing in his eyes.

“Oh, we'll see about that.” Eobard’s own eyes glowed red, accepting the challenge.

And then they were running.

Laughing at super speed wasn’t the easiest of feats, but neither was chasing Barry Allen to the ends of the earth to prove him wrong.

Eobard was happy to do both.

He smiled, and pushed forward, red lightning crackling behind him, pushing him forward towards Barry, whose lightning he was starting to see in the distance. He hit the shore, and Barry’s red form came into view.

 _Closer, closer, almost there…_ Eobard thought, and then—

“Ahhhhh!” Barry yelped as he tripped at superspeed, the sudden change in velocity disturbing the suite of linear afterimages that followed behind him. Before it could register in Eobard’s mind that he needed to stop, he crashed into the red tumbleweed that was Barry Allen, and let out a cry of surprise of his own.

The two skidded to a sandy halt, their bodies creating human sized divots in the beach. Eobard felt a wave wash over his foot, cold and icy. He winced, pulling his leg away on instinct. He then stood up, and started brushing the sand off of his suit, looking quizzically at the other speedster, who still appeared to be getting his bearings.

“Still can’t run on sand, I see,” Eobard said, flicking a particularly large shell fragment off of his shoulder. When Barry didn’t immediately flash to his feet to glare at the other man, Eobard felt concern briefly fall over him.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“Give me a second,” Barry said, attempting to get up.

He tried, failed, and Eobard dashed forward to catch him, setting him gently back down on the ground.

Barry took off his boot, and pulled back his cowl. “I think I twisted my ankle, or broke a toe, or something because my foot seriously hurts. I really should have taken the road a little farther, and hoped I could have carried myself to the water and kept going.”

The last part of the sentence was more of a mumble, but Eobard heard it all the same. He sighed, dropping down to sit in front of Barry, removing his own cowl, and decided that he could deal with brushing the rest of the sand off his suit later. “You overestimate your abilities sometimes, it’s only human.” Eobard said.

Barry smiled, running a hand absentmindedly through his hair.

“And as for that ankle-” Eobard continued.

“It might not be the ankle-” Barry interrupted.

“As for your foot-” Eobard corrected.

“Might not be the foot either-” Barry cut in again.

“Just shut up and let me look at it, Barry.”

The younger one quieted his protests, shut his mouth, and let Eobard examine his injury. Gloved yellow fingers poked at him, and Eobard’s hands moved his ankle this way and that, asking Barry questions of what he felt at measured intervals, and Barry responded in hisses and short little quips including “Yes” and “No” and “Oh god, Eo, don’t’ do that.”

Eobard soon removed his hands, and spoke. “You sprained your ankle.”

“So I’ll be better in what, an hour?” Barry asked.

Eobard rolled his eyes. “Less.”

“Half an hour?” Barry guessed.

“Something like that.” Eobard answered, moving to sit next to Barry instead of in front of him.

“So we just wait here?” Barry shifted closer.

“Yes, we wait here, unless you want to finish this race on a bad ankle. Though if you do, it will be all that much easier to destroy you.” Eobard smirked.

“Cute, though something tells me I have a good lead on you.” Barry wrapped his arm around Eobard’s shoulders, intending to pull him closer, and Eobard let him.

“Only because you had a head start.” Eobard defended. Regardless, Eobard had nearly overtaken him before Barry had proven once again he was the universe’s clumsiest speedster, and that included alternate realities. But Eobard wasn’t going to tell him that. “I’ll catch you soon enough, Mr. Allen.”

“Whatever you say, _Professor_ Thawne.” Barry was the one to smirk then, and Eobard let his head drop to Barry’s shoulder, taking in the feel of Cisco Ramon’s infamous tripolymer on his cheek, knowing Barry’s skin was on the other side, undoubtedly sweaty from all the running, as per the usual, and the thought sent a thrill up his spine.

Eobard let his thoughts drift as red fingers thrummed on his arm where Barry held him, always restless. Briefly, he thought about what it would be like to fall asleep, but as much as he trusted Barry, he didn’t trust anyone who might come upon them, and he needed to be ready to speed Barry to safety at a moment’s notice, just in case.

No less than twenty minutes had passed before Eobard had to catch himself from falling sideways and getting even more sand on his suit.

He looked up to see Barry flashing around the beach, testing the functionality of his ankle. With a smile that Eobard knew could shatter all the darkness around it, Barry braced himself to run.

“Can we at least eat first?” Eobard inquired.

Barry laughed. “Hold your appetite, Thawne, there’s a crepe place in Paris I want to show you.”

 _What the hell is a crepe?_ Eobard groaned as the other disappeared over the waves.

Barry ran, and Eobard followed.

~

“This is literally sugar and butter on a glorified pancake.” Eobard said as he picked up one of many crepes on his plate and sniffed it. “There is no way this is healthy.”

“I never said it was.” Barry stated, wolfing down one of his own. “But it’s calories. Delicious, sugary calories.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to weaken the competition.”

“As if I needed to weaken you with a sugary pancake, Eo.” Barry started. “My dashing good looks and super sexy lightning do that by default. And to be fair, you still haven’t caught up to me yet. I still had to wait for you to get here.”

Eobard responded by wadding up a paper napkin at superspeed and throwing it at Barry’s face. It hit him perfectly in between the eyes, and Barry’s nose wrinkled in response.

Eobard looked at Barry smugly, who threw the napkin back with equal force, aiming to do the same to Eobard as that which had been done to him, but Eobard was quick and sped away to avoid it.

“Missed me,” Eobard winked.

Barry glared. “Damn you.”

Eobard took the opportunity to flash forward into Barry’s carefully guarded bubble of personal place, and Barry let him. He pulled the scarlet one closer by wrapping an ombre clad yellow arm around the small of Barry’s back. Barry responded by arching his body to get nearer to Eobard, wrapping his own arms around the yellow one, and braced himself for what came next when he saw Eobard tilting his head to—

“Ah ah ah” Eobard wagged his index finger in front of Barry’s eyes. “Not so fast. Maybe later. If I win.”

“And when I beat you?”

“Then I guess I will withhold all affections until I see fit,” Eobard shrugged.

“Are you blackmailing me?” Barry looked at him incredulously.

“Maybe.” Eobard answered, running his hand through Barry’s hair, inattentively tugging on the strands at the base of his neck to weaken Barry’s resolve, to remind him of what he would be missing. His hand stilled when Barry started talking.

“Well, when I win, we both know you won’t be able to stay away for more than a day.” Barry smiled, and laughed, and they both knew Barry was right.

But still, Eobard tightened his hold in Barry’s hair, and pulled his head back. Not too hard, just enough that he could lean in close, and put his lips less than an inch from Barry’s, so that Barry could do nothing to complete the prospective kiss.

He let Barry go with a push, picked up his plate, and within seconds Eobard was wolfing down the crepes faster than Barry could keep track of, acting as if nothing had happened.

“Eo, I swear you are such a tease.”

A smile turned in the corners of Eobard’s lips. “I’m just playing the game. If you’re distracted, you won’t run as fast.” Eobard stated nonchalantly.

“Maybe, or not.” Barry said, sitting down next to Eobard.

“Barry,” Eobard asked. “would you consider pausing on our little tour of the world?”

“Eo, we aren’t touring the world, we are racing around it.” Barry said, finishing another crepe at superspeed.

“Well, I hear there is a remarkably good art museum near here that houses several paintings that are categorized as ‘stolen’ in my time. And since we are in the area…” Eobard’s voice trailed off.

“Ah, well, I see nothing wrong with that since I haven’t seen them either.” Barry agreed. “But we have one problem.”

“And what’s that?” Eobard asked.

Barry merely gestured to their suits, and realization dawned on Eobard’s face.

“Yes, these suits will have to go, if only briefly.” Eobard agreed.

“Looks like I can cross ‘go shopping in Europe’ off my ‘things to do as a speedster bucket list’” Barry continued.

“You have a bucket list that’s related to your powers?” Eobard looked at him, puzzled.

“Oh I have many things I want to do now that I have speedster powers, and if you want, you can join me on some of them.” Barry offered, and Eobard really, really wanted to take him up on it.

“We could always forego the race…” Eobard said.

“Would that mean I win, Eo?” Barry grinned, moving closer to the yellow speedster.

“No, it would be a tie. No winners.” Eobard said.

“I don’t think it works that way.” Barry took a step backwards. “We can do the bucket list another time, so,” Barry countered. “how about a raincheck?”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Eobard said.

“And maybe a few other things too.” Barry said, and Eobard, who turned his head away the microsecond he realized what was being implied, turned as red as Barry’s suit. “We can still see the art in the Louvre though, and go shopping. Paris can be our official pit stop, and then I can get back to you attempting to destroy me, key word _attempt_ , since you will most certainly fail.” Barry said.

“Oh, we will most certainly see about that,” Eobard said. “Where are we going now?

“Just follow me.” Barry said.

Eobard groaned.

Before Eobard could say he understood, Barry flashed before him, grabbed his face in both of his hands, thumbs brushing along his cheeks, and planted a kiss on Eobard’s lips, which elicited nothing but the reddest blush Eobard could physically muster.

“That’s for being such a tease, Eo.” Barry winked, lightning in his eyes.

 _That’s the second time in five minutes. I need to put a stop to this immediately,_ Eobard promised himself silently as his eyes began to glow red in preparation to run.

Barry ran, and Eobard followed once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to CardinalStar for fueling the start of this fic and beta-ing this chapter <3


	2. Paris (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey, that coma was your fault, so you can’t blame me for Caitlin dragging you to the mall.”
> 
> Barry and Eobard make it to the Louvre. 
> 
> Fluff and moral quandaries ensue.
> 
> Enjoy ＼(^o^)／

Barry was crouching, perched like a bird on a brick ledge that surrounded a raised street side garden. His scarlet-clad hands were close together, and he fidgeted with a blade of grass, moving it between his fingers with flickers of lightning so quick that no one but Eobard, who was pacing absentmindedly around him, could see.

"There’s a major problem with our shopping plan." Barry began, tossing the grass away and plucking a new leaf from the supply next to him.

"And what's that?" Eobard asked, stopping his pacing so that he stood in front of Barry’s crouching form, and looked down at him.

"We don't have any money, so we can't buy anything."

"I recall a while ago, shortly after the genesis of your powers, that you were in a situation that required you to run through a clothing store and,” Eobard paused, “not pay for what you walked out of there with." 

"That was different." Barry commented immediately.

The older man crossed his arms, adjusted his feet so they were shoulder’s width apart, and stared him down. If he were wearing his glasses, he would have peeked over the tops of them. "How so, Barry?" 

"It's different because..." Barry tapped into the Speedforce to dilate time so he could come up with a reason. Eobard caught on, but said nothing. Time sped up. "…I was a different person then."

"Bullshit." Eobard stated. "You are, and always will be _Barry Allen_. Though maybe not the fastest man alive." Eobard smirked, and Barry rolled his eyes, which earned a low chuckle from the other speedster.

"Eo, I swear if you even think about-" Barry started, but Eobard had already taken off towards what had to be a shopping mall.

They were just borrowing the clothes. Just for the day.

Barry shoved down his reservations as he promised his morals that they would only be questioned temporarily and chased after Eobard, disappearing with a crack of lightning.

Barry and Eobard met up in a hidden back alley, away from passerby, each with several clothing items in hand.

"I sure do hope these fit." Barry remarked to Eobard, gesturing to the clothes in a bag he hung off his arm. "Because I am _not_ stealing anything else from that little old lady."

"Stealing from that little old lady was your choice Barry. You could have gone anywhere else." Eobard said, quirking that telltale brow of his.

"Do you know how hard it is to find things that fit me?" Barry defended, coming closer to the other speedster. "Tall and lanky clothes aren't easy to find." He gestured to himself.

"Oh believe me, I spent so many late nights in S.T.A.R. Labs hearing Cisco talk about how difficult your body proportions were to adjust to compared to _every_ sewing pattern he had made before. That suit of yours?" He poked Barry's tripolymer clad shoulder once. "It was made and sewn with a _lot_ of complaining. Also, I understand the struggle because _I_ was the one who Caitlin dragged out to the stores to buy shirts for you when you were in that blasted coma, because Cisco didn’t want to come along.”

"Hey, that _coma_ was your fault, so you can’t blame _me_ for Caitlin dragging you to the mall.”

"Shhhh Barry," Eobard quieted him by pulling Barry into a soft embrace, wrapping both arms around his slender form slowly, to make sure that Barry was all right with his sudden advance. While it wasn’t as worrisome anymore, Eobard could _never_ be too careful. "Also, you were in a coma for nine months, so if anyone knows your body, it's me."

And with that, Eobard’s smirk was back. Barry could _feel_ it. He pushed his way out of Eobard's arms, and turned the opposite direction so that the other couldn’t see him, even though Eobard didn’t have to look at his face to know it was as red as a tomato.

"Well, let's get on with it then." Barry glanced lightly in Eobard’s general direction as he said it, and gestured to the sets of clothing still held in both of their hands.

Eobard flickered, and Barry did the same. Anyone passing by the alley at this time—and really no one should be around, they had both been very careful to pick this spot—would have had a religious experience upon observing all the lightning sparks that were flying in the alleyway, on the ground, across the sky, and up against the walls.

Within seconds, the red and yellow storms had calmed, and both men had normal street clothes on. The Flash and Reverse-Flash suits were safely back inside their respective owner's rings.

"Seriously, Eo?" Barry said once he took a look at the other. Eobard stood before Barry, and had managed to find a shirt that started off yellow at the top, but faded into black by the time it reached the lower hem. Below that, he was wearing black pants and black boots.

Typical. Very... Eobard.

Barry gave him a sidelong glance.

"What? I have a color scheme and I need to stick with it," Eobard defended. "Consistency is the key to success, and it's not like you're any better." he gestured to Barry's outfit, which was a red shirt with a slightly redder checkered button up shirt worn over it, blue jeans, and red Vans.

"Hey, I wore red _way_ before I became The Flash." Barry retorted.

"You're not wrong." Eobard said, a smile flickering across his face so quickly that only Barry would have been able to see it. "But my point still stands."

"Alright, I’ll let you have this one. At least we both look fly as fuck." Barry twirled around and struck a pose—showing off his outfit, and definitely his ass—because damn did it look _good_ in those jeans.

Eobard approved. Eobard very much approved.

"It's not always about crowning a winner." He said, pausing, then Barry heard the tell tale beginnings of Eobard preparing to vibrate his vocal chords. "But when it comes to speed, I always win, _Flasssssshhhhhhhh_ " He said, voice distorted.

"Oh god, here we go again." Barry said, mentally facepalming.

"See you at the Louvre." Eobard saluted, eyes red.

Eobard ran, and Barry followed.

 ~

 Barry decided his morals really had to be put on hold when they got to the Louvre and found out they didn't meet any of the requirements for free admission, and tickets were 15 euros. The price didn’t matter. It could be 100 euros for all they cared because they still had no money.

"We could phase through the walls." Eobard suggested.

"There has to be a better way." Barry countered.

"I could masquerade as disabled Harrison Wells again. We just have to find a wheelchair and-”

"NO," Barry interjected, waving his arms emphatically in front of him. “Anything but that. Phasing through walls it is!” He decided, shutting up Eobard about any more Harrison Wells nonsense. “But what if people see us, Eo?"

"You worry too much.” Eobard dismissed. “If there are people around, we can just speed away until there are no more people. We will be fine. Also I know a part of the building that not many people frequent." Eobard put a calming hand in between Barry's shoulders, running up and down his spine, and he guided him away from the crowds. "Just follow me. You know what to do." He winked.

Eobard called upon the Speedforce. With a breath, he gave himself over to it, and let time stretch around him. Gradually and carefully he held up his hand to the wall of the building, fingernails scratching against the brick, and altered the frequency of vibrations in his cells enough that he could let his fingertips slide into the stone of the building.

The first time Eobard figured out how to phase, he tripped. He hadn't expected the idea of “phasing” to actually work, so it was an accident, really. He knew that the Flash could do it, and he had reverse-engineered nature itself in order to replicate the Flash’s powers, but he hadn’t expected phasing to actually _work_ with _him._ The physics of it were the only thing that made sense in Eobard’s mind, because if he was to look at it from the outside, a solid thing should _not_ be able to pass through another solid thing, especially if one of those solid things is moving at high speed.

But in the end, all he had done was vibrate his cells very, _very_ fast and then run at a ridiculous speed towards a wall. After realizing that he actually had _phased_ and not _crashed—_ because at this point in his Speedforce experiments he really was just saying “fuck it”—he tripped. Even his speedster reflexes, still new and untamed but very powerful regardless, couldn’t catch him from falling and well…the broken nose that ensued still ached on exceptionally rainy days.

Eobard won’t admit it to anyone, not even Barry, but he’s proud of that injury, because it was the impetus that led him to push towards learning the rest of the Flash’s abilities, since now he _knew_ he could do great things, majestic things, _impossible_ things; things that defied reality and physics itself.

Eobard was not a god, and never believed to be one, but the first time he phased was the only instance that belief was challenged, even if for a few glorious near-holy seconds.

Now, after _years_ of experience and technical know how, phasing is second nature.

Eobard knows it’s getting that way for Barry, since the boy truly is a natural with _everything,_ so it won’t be long before it comes as easily to him as it does to Eobard. After all, it isn't as if Eobard doesn't know what he's doing when he’s lecturing Barry about their powers and the force that governs them. Fortunate for Eobard, Barry has realized this, and trusts him enough to believe his words, even if said trust is fragile as glass some days.

He felt Barry watching him as he moved forward towards the wall to the Louvre. Nails followed fingers, and then after them hands, steady palms, forearms, tentative biceps, and with yet another breath, Eobard took a step forward and walked into the wall with the leisure of an average housecat.

Eobard _loved_ phasing. He always had. It was one of the few times where in the eternity of a few seconds he could find peace. He had always possessed a flair for the dramatic, the exceptional, and doing things that normal men couldn’t even _fathom._ _This_ was perfection to Eobard.

But one thing no one warned him about—not that there was anyone _to_ warn him in the first place—was how _quiet_ it was. He only heard the hum of his own vibrations in what his ears could pick up, but nothing else. Not his heartbeat—it was too slow anyways—and he certainly wasn’t breathing. He didn’t taste anything; he didn’t smell anything. All he felt was his molecules parting those in the wall ever so slightly, as if they were liquid, knowing they would return to their former conformation before any lasting structural damage could be done. It was like swimming but without any water; like a breeze, without air.

He kept peaceful throughout, letting his instincts carry him through. It was easy, calm. The Speedforce took care of him, always had since he had first accessed it, and hand in hand kept Eobard’s vibrations steady so that he would pass through without harming the wall, since ending on the wrong vibration could cause an explosion, and _that_ would be the opposite of what him and Barry wanted to achieve in this little adventure of theirs. As much as Eobard appreciated destruction, he _really_ wanted to see those paintings.

When Eobard finished stepping through, he let out the breath he had been holding, the breath taken from the other side, and waited for Barry to come through.

The other speedster stumbled through a minute later—it took much more focus for him than Eobard—and his breathing was a little ragged. Barry's over-shirt trailed behind him ever so slightly, and as a result, it remained in the wall.

Eobard could have reminded him to button it up first, but chose against it for this image alone.

Barry, still in the act of moving through the wall, was yanked in the reverse direction to that which he had come, and his back hit the wall with a resounding thump. He let out a cry of surprise and flushed with embarrassment when he realized what had happened.

Eobard just laughed.

“What the hell?” Barry exclaimed, still frazzled.

"Did you know that the Louvre was used as a fortress before it was a museum?” Eobard stated, not even trying to act as if he was not very, _very_ amused by watching Barry struggle in front of him. “The walls were reinforced, and made of a thick stone that would be normally very hard to phase through”

“Why didn’t you warn me?” Barry looked up at Eobard, his eyes giving away his minor sense of betrayal.

“Because I knew you could do it. I have full confidence in you Barry.” Eobard told him.

Barry stopped for a second, and Eobard assumed he was flashing back to when Eobard first taught him how to phase, when he convinced Barry to take the leap of faith that he _could_ phase through something, a belief that was the key to teaching him the rest of his abilities, to teach him to go faster, so that Eobard could get home—

 _No,_ he silently told himself. _No, I am home. My home is here. Home is where the people I care about are, and Barry Allen is my home, because I_ deeply _care about him._

Eobard had apparently snapped back to reality a few seconds later than Barry had, because the speedster was trying to phase his hand back into the wall to retrieve his shirt, but was too flustered to do so properly. His vibrations were scattered and uneven, mostly due to embarrassment and surprise.

Eobard was glad that they had phased into a back hallway of the building, one that wasn't laden with tourists. Of course, this was by design. Eobard would _never_ risk putting his Barry Allen in danger.

"I am now very okay with having my suit so tight" Barry was just tugging on the ends of his shirt at this point, vibrating his hands to try and shake up the molecules of the shirt enough to pull it out of the wall.

Eobard laughed again.

 _Me too,_ he thought.

"I could help you." Eobard offered.

"Give me another minute. I can do this." Barry insisted when Eobard started moving towards him. He held his hands up and stopped walking. “Worst to worst I’ll just take it off and leave it there.”

"And leave a shirt fused into the brick of the wall for no apparent reason? People would think that’s witchcraft, Barry, are you sure you don’t want any help?” Eobard offered one last time. “It would be over _in a flash.”_

Barry facepalmed, literally this time. “Puns now, Eo?”

“You know you love them” Eobard jested.

Barry let out an ‘ugh’ noise.

“To answer your question, no, I don’t need your help. Just give me more time.” Barry insisted, and Eobard didn’t press any farther.

Eobard took a place learning up against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and crossing his ankles as well, looking like a damned model, until Barry finally sighed in frustration, took a bracing breath and told Eobard to do it for him.

Of course, with Eobard it was never that simple.

He whooshed over to the younger speedster, and pressed Barry’s body back into the wall with his own. He snaked a hand around the small of Barry's back, pulling him flush against him, causing Barry’s arms to become trapped against Eobard’s chest, palms nearly flat against him. Eobard reached his other hand behind him, intending to free his shirt from the wall, but thought better of it. After all, why let such a prime opportunity go to waste?

When Eobard’s hand suddenly stopped, Barry adjusted himself in the other speedster’s grasp, trying to see what he was doing. Eobard merely tightened his hold on the trapped speedster, and the hand that was supposed to set him free snaked into his hair and tickled the strands there.

"You know," Eobard said into his ear, and his voice, just _did_ things to him, sent weird, tingly _feelings_ down his spine when he was this close. "If I left you here right now, I would have a decent head start to win this race. You would never catch up to me."

Barry said nothing. Eobard expected this.

“But that would be no fun, now would it?” Eobard asked. He knew Barry still wouldn’t answer, so he let him keep his silence.

“So I settle for a little fun, a little,” Eobard paused, raising one dark eyebrow, “ _preview_ of what may happen to you when I win, when I get you all to myself.”

Eobard moved in for the kill, planting a soft kiss on Barry’s all-too-eager lips. He had been waiting for it, hoping for it, and it was blissful, really, whenever the two of them kissed. Their inborn competition of the other, the Flash and his Reverse, just zeroed out and melted away, negative and positive, non-existent.

When Thawne wanted to kiss Barry, the younger man usually let him. After all, according to Barry, he _was_ a great kisser; and when Barry wanted to kiss Eobard, Eobard didn’t usually complain.

The only times they _had_ complained were on this race, and this game they were playing, which apparently had rules. And Eobard was breaking them.

Barry knew this, but he also didn’t care. Eobard’s teeth bit his lower lip, and Barry’s cry of surprised was muffled by Eobard kissing him again. All the while, the two of them called on the Speedforce, the lightning around them dancing, time slowing to a crawl, and in the end, few things in the world could even dream to compare.

Barry, still held firm in Eobard’s safe arms, tried to move his own to return the embrace, but Eobard wouldn’t let him. His lips left his, and Barry let out a quiet whine.

“Ah ah ah. This is _my_ preview of what _I_ do to you. Not the other way around.” Eobard said.

“I can’t even hug you back?” Barry asked, pleaded almost. Eobard chuckled at the thought.

“Nope, that’s not how this game is played.” Barry attempted to move his arms again, but before he could even really try, Eobard held him tight. He had always been stronger than Barry, and for the most part Barry was okay with it, just not right now when all he had wanted to do was hug him back.

However, Barry’s resolve weakened as Eobard started running a hand through his hair where formerly he was just teasing it. It was an action that always calmed him down, a weakness he was always aware of. It was “Barry Allen’s Off Switch” as he secretly called it, but never used it to harm him. He hardly ever used it all, mostly in times of panic when Barry’s thoughts couldn’t _slow down_.

It was in times like those that Eobard often wished he could synthesize a compound that would work to relieve anxiety for speedsters, because Barry, if he got a panic attack and Eobard _wasn’t_ there, it could end… less than desirably, and Eobard never liked the aftermath.

But also in times like these, when he was trying to prove to Barry that at this moment, just _this_ moment, Barry was safe under his control, an unspoken vow that Eobard would never let anyone hurt him again, not even Eobard himself. That was a promise he made long ago, and he made it on his life.

So running his fingers though the brown locks told Barry just that, and the slender speedster—the man that Eobard would go to the ends of the earth for—relaxed against him, nearly purring as he did so.

Once Eobard was sure Barry wasn’t going to immediately try and mess his shirt up any more than he already had, he loosened his arms, and settled his hand at the small of his back, rubbing the muscles on either side of his spine, where the tension of his Flash work always manifested itself.

And while Barry practically hummed against his chest, Eobard pulled him forward. Barry felt the other’s arm phase behind him, and within a second, Barry’s shirt was free, which meant _he_ was free.

Barry immediately tackled the other speedster to the ground, climbing on top of him and pinning him there. Eobard didn’t resist.

“Thanks, Eo.” Barry said. “You saved me a lot of trouble.”

“I could teach you sometime,” he said, “when we are back at the labs and Cisco can help us build a good solid wall for you to practice phasing through. Drywall isn’t the best material, especially when it comes to former fortresses.”

“Yeah… that was quite a struggle.” Barry remarked.

“I promise to make it better next time.” Eobard said, winking.

“You just need to _promise_ you’ll warn me.”

“I had full confidence-”

“Yeah yeah yeah, full confidence, I believe in you, feel the Speedforce in your soul.” Barry smiled as he interrupted, letting Eobard free as he continued to mimic him. “Run Barry, Run, etcetera etcetera etcetera…”

They both stood up, brushed themselves off, and Eobard put his arms around Barry’s waist instantly, lightly and not with force, and Barry met him halfway by resting his own arms on Eobard’s shoulders, hands clasping behind the older one’s neck.

“I do _not_ sound like that.” Eobard insisted.

“Oh you _so_ do.”

“Do not!” Eobard countered.

“Well I know one thing you _do_ sound like, and this one I’ve been practicing.” Barry took a second, and made his eyes take on their signature yellow bolts, and Eobard was already caught in the beauty of the storm in his eyes, the storm that _he_ put there, and then Barry was talking, and Eobard was back to laughing at him again, and he _loved_ it.

“Some might say I’m the Reverse.” Barry said, pausing, voice perfectly copying that of the Reverse Flash’s and then switching back to normal again.

Eobard looked mortified and was struck speechless.

“And another one of my favorites,” Barry continued, much to Eobard’s chagrin, “and Cisco hates this one when I show up when he’s working late at S.T.A.R Labs,” Barry smirked, changing voices again, face then taking on a serious expression, “Forgive me, but to me you’ve been dead for centuries.”

Barry lunged his hand towards Eobard’s chest, and with a crackle, Eobard grabbed his arm, flipped him around and wrapped the other around his abdomen so that Barry couldn’t move, again. Instead, he nearly quaked with laughter.

“Oh, you will pay for that.” Eobard promised in Barry’s ear. “When I win, oh yes, you will pay.”

“Oh come on! I wasn’t even serious!” Barry argued, a playful tone in his voice.

“Well now you just have to win? Don’t you?”

“Of course I have to win, that’s what I’ve been doing this whole time.” Then Barry changed his voice again. “I always win, _Reverse Flassssssshhhhhhhhh.”_

At that, Eobard chuckled and released him so that _he_ could keel over and laugh.

“Do I really sound like that?” he said.

“Less dramatic, but yes,” Barry confirmed.

“Good, it was meant to be that way, scary, and a tad…. _Off_.” Eobard said.

“Wait.” Barry’s expression flattened. “Why?”

“To scare you, Barry. It was always meant to scare _you,_ and no one else. I could care less who else the Reverse-Flash was frightening.” Eobard didn’t do Barry the disservice of averting his gaze—honesty was the _least_ that Barry deserved.

Barry shook and instinctively moved towards the other man for comfort for the old fear, but when he realized it was _Eobard_ he was going to, he stepped back with a start. Eobard saw the inner war rage in Barry’s head for less than a second, and then the younger speedster was back in his arms, tentative, but still there nonetheless.

  _Oh,_ Eobard thought, _how the tables have_ so _turned._

 “You don’t scare me anymore.” Barry said, hugging closer to him. “You haven’t in quite a while.”

“And I never will again. That’s a promise, Barry. And I will make that promise every second of every day until the end of time.” Eobard turned him so that he could kiss his forehead. Barry flushed, but made no effort to hide it this time.

“Can we go see those paintings now?” Eobard asked.

 “Totally!” Barry said, jumping out of Eobard’s arms so fast that he accidentally used the Speedforce on his way up, and landed with a crackle of lightning on his way down.

He blushed again, this time out of surprise instead of unexpected affection, and Eobard just laughed and took Barry’s hand in his own, interlacing their fingers so that Eobard could pull Barry towards the main part of the museum.

Barry had laughed when he had first realized it, that Eobard wore his Reverse Flash ring on his left hand instead of his right, for the exclusive purpose that when they held hands their rings would touch. Eobard told him it was a reminder of how deeply the two were connected to one another though the Speedforce. Barry had laughed at him, and kissed him, and more importantly, didn’t dismiss Eobard’s thoughts on the matter, leaning more towards that it was a reminder that Barry was still _there,_ alive and happy, and had actually liked it very, very much.

So as they walked, arms lightly swinging, fingers intertwined, rings still touching, Eobard was reminded once more that yes, Barry Allen was his home now, wherever in the universe that may be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! And thanks to @cardinalstar for being so freaking supportive of this fluffy bullshit of a fic that took over my life. 
> 
> Still okay with it. 
> 
> Thanks to all that left kudos and comments on the last chapter, because like, seriously it made my day that you humans cared enough to let me know you liked it. 
> 
> Stay tuned for Irish dancing. Also, I'm gideonshipsit on tumblr if anyone wants to follow me. Flash bullshit exclusively.
> 
> *smirks excessively*


	3. Paris (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eobard and Barry continue their race around the world, but it can hardly be called a race when neither is in a hurry to get ahead...
> 
> 7/12/2016 - Minor edits for typos and chapter titles.

“—And here we see one of my personal favorites, _The Raft of Medusa,_ by Théodore Géricault.” Eobard lectured, leading Barry into yet another one of the many rooms in the Louvre.

Once they had snuck back into the main part of the museum, Eobard had taken the lead—and then given Barry his own personal tour of most of the paintings—“Because this is the Louvre after all, we can’t see _everything,_ Barry.”—complete with audio.

“—this is actually one of the more famous paintings here, and is a classical example of French Romanticism.” Eobard continued, nearly glowing with happiness to be back in his ‘professor’ role. It had been a while.

Barry tugged on Eobard’s hand, indicating for the older man to look at him.

“Just to let you know, back when I was in college, I did take one Art History class.” Barry told him, letting Eobard know that he wasn’t entirely clueless.

“What period?” Eobard raised an eyebrow.

“Second half of Western Art, by the class bulletin.” Barry replied. “It included works from the beginning of the Renaissance to the present, so I do know what _romanticism_ is. And this painting does look familiar.”

Eobard grinned. “Do you know what it’s actually depicting?” He asked.

“…Not particularly?” it was Barry’s turn to raise an eyebrow, and Eobard took it as an invitation to continue into another part of his seemingly endless lecture. Barry sighed, but let him go on.

“It’s showing part of an event that happened in the early 1800s. Around 150 people were set a drift on a makeshift raft after their ship, the _Medusa,_ wrecked due to the _outlandish_ incompetence of the captain.” Eobard explained. “ Around fifteen or so people survived, but not after they experienced starvation and began to practice cannibalism.”

“Ah,” Barry spoke once Eobard finished. “I see why you like it.”

“There’s actual artistic value in this! The composition is—”

“—Eo!” Barry suddenly raised his voice, and dragged Eobard—who lost his monorail of thought immediately—over to a painting Barry had just noticed.

“What’s this one?” Barry asked, pointing to yet another large scene from the height of French Romanticism.

“If I remember correctly—and I usually do,” Eobard smirked, “—it’s a work by Eugene Delacroix, called _Liberty Leading the People._ It was painted to show parts of the French Revolution, see the flag she’s holding? It’s also the current French flag.” Eobard paused, looking at Barry, who was grinning like an idiot, and Eobard returned the look by creasing his eyebrows, frowning in confusion. “Barry, why are you looking at me like that?”

“Eo,” Barry dropped his hand, and grinned even wider. “ _This_ is what’s on the cover of my favorite _Coldplay_ album!” Barry interrupted. “ _Viva La Vida!_ ”

“Long live life.” Eobard added, his eyebrows settling.

It was then Barry’s turn to frown. “What?”

“The translation,” Eobard explained. “Viva la Vida means ‘long live life.’”

“Huh.” Barry said, surprised at how useful the information was. “Sounds appropriate for us. Maybe we can have a motto.”

“Something tells me it’s already taken.” Eobard took his hand again, urging him forward through the museum.

“Still, Viva la Vida kinda sounds pretty cool to me, regardless. That’s what we could call this adventure of ours, and we don’t have to tell anyone,” Barry elbowed him lightly in the side, not letting go of the older man’s hand. Eobard let out a quiet noise that was a clear precursor to a laugh. He flinched away and his face attempted to scrunch up, but Eobard shoved down the reaction immediately. Barry glowed ever so slightly in satisfaction, and Eobard shot him a glare, pulling him forward.

“Viva la Vida.” Eobard repeated.

“Viva la Vida.” Barry mirrored, and waited for Eobard to continue his art history lectures.

~

“How is it that in this _entire_ museum there is not a _single_ painting of lightning?” Barry exclaimed. “Nothing speed related, or storm related, save for a few works where the subject of interest was Zeus, and he wasn’t even a _speedster.”_

“To be fair,” Eobard added, “Zeus could throw lighting, and _we_ can throw lightning, so the similarities aren’t _too_ off.”

“Still.” Barry simply said.

“Makes enough sense. We can go see the _Mona Lisa_ now if you want.” Eobard started to pull Barry away from _Liberty Leading the People_ and towards the room that housed the _Mona Lisa._

Eobard led them through several other galleries, saying a few tidbits and factoids about paintings that he recognized, and Barry added his own knowledge to a few that Eobard didn’t know much about. Barry mainly focused on the composition—technique, color, and the use of light and shape were his favorites—rather than the history and subject matter that appeared to enthrall Eobard.

Once they arrived in the large room that was home to Leonardo Da Vinci’s famous painting, Barry and Eobard had to wait patiently to wade through the crowd of tourists—not that they themselves were excluded from that group—before they could set eyes on the painting.

“It’s so small.” Barry remarked. “I expected bigger.”

“I think everyone does, sorry if I have ever disappointed you, Barry.”

Eobard earned another elbow in the side, and when Barry’s eyes narrowed this time, Eobard met them with equal intensity.

Eobard looked away first, muttering, “We should get back to the art, we can stare at each other later.”

Another elbow, but Barry ended up setting his eyes back to the painting.

“Was this another painting that was stolen in your time?” Barry asked.

“No, I just wanted to see it while it was still in good condition.” Eobard answered, giving Barry’s hand a squeeze as he did so. “Twenty years before I was born, the Louvre of my time nearly burned down. This painting nearly went with it, and this one—” Eobard turned himself and Barry around and the older man pointed to the _massive_ Italian painting behind them on the opposite wall. “—was lost.” Eobard paused. “However, while the _Mona Lisa_ did survive, it did not escape without _inane_ levels of heat damage, hence why I am glad to see it here.”

“How long do you want to stay here?”

“Just a few more minutes, and then we should attempt to find food.” Eobard said, and Barry’s stomach growled at the thought. “Maybe more. I just want to take it in before it’s gone.”

Barry didn’t reply, even though he wanted to say something about how Eobard wouldn’t be going back to his time, and that he didn’t have to worry about the _Mona Lisa_ disappearing anytime soon. Instead, he stepped a little closer to the older speedster, and gently leaned his head on Eobard’s shoulder.

They stood like that for a long time.

~

Once the two had left the Louvre, Barry had led them around, walking the streets of Paris as the sun began to set. Eobard suggested they try to sneak into a tourist group that was headed up the Eiffel tower, but Barry refused to get to the top of it by means _other_ than the Speedforce. Eobard soon realized he was too stubborn to change his mind, and they kept walking around, hands still interlaced with one another, their feet carefully stepping over the uneven ground that was the streets of Paris.

As could be expected, there were many instances of live music, and while they searched for food—even though Barry hadn’t the slightest idea of how they were to get to it—Barry marveled at the musical compositions that graced his ears as they walked.

“Come _on,_ Eobard, just _one_ dance.” Barry insisted, holding up a hand with his index finger pointing upwards. He was pulling Eobard with his other hand, attempting to get him off the sidewalk and onto the middle of the street that had been blocked off earlier in the evening.

Eobard didn’t budge.

“Just one! And then I won’t ever ask again.” Barry started twisting his hips to the beat of the music and Eobard just rolled his eyes.

“We both know that’s not true.” Eobard said, and let Barry pull him a few steps forward. Barry knew he was wearing him down, and it was only a matter of time before—

“Aww, the music stopped.” Barry said suddenly, disappointed. He stopped dancing, and looked at Eobard, who had replaced his annoyed look with a grin.

“Looks like we will have to keep searching for food.” Eobard took control, and pulled Barry easily towards the sidewalk, watching him as he jumped over a potted plant that stood in his way with way too much unnecessary dramatic flair. Barry laughed when he nearly didn’t clear it, and then let Eobard pull him in the direction they were moving before Barry had tried—in vain—to get Eobard to dance with him.

“I’ll get you dancing eventually.” Barry promised, “You just wait.”

“Good luck, _Flash._ ” Eobard turned to him.

“Just remember dancing could give a whole new definition to being my reverse.” Barry said with a grin, and Eobard just left go of his hand and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him flush against his side.

“Whatever you say, Barry.” Eobard told him dismissively.

~

Barry’s stomach growled again while they continued walking, and while other music played, Barry was far too hungry to stop and attempt to make Eobard dance with him again.

“Okay Eo, I know we have been walking a while, but both of us are basically starving to death, and as much as I want to believe you’re doing it on purpose to get ahead, I know you’re hungry too, so we really should find a place.” Barry said. They were back to swinging their hands in the space between them.

“Shhh Barry, I think I have an idea.” Eobard said, picking up the pace.

“Care to share?” Barry said, keeping up successfully.

“Nope.” Eobard said, and within a few minutes they had stopped at a café at the end of the street. There were chairs and tables from one side of the road to the other, and once again Barry was glad that the roads were blocked off.

“This is gorgeous.” Barry said once they stopped. “But I’m not all for stealing food, as much as we may be able to run once we eat, I don’t think that’s—”

“—ethical?” Eobard finished, walking towards the podium that sat closer to the building on the left side of the road. “Trust me Barry, we won’t be _stealing_ anything.”

“But—”

“But nothing.” Eobard interrupted. “Trust me.”

Barry opened his mouth to speak again, but thought better of it when Eobard tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. It was a look that told Barry he wouldn’t get anywhere with further arguing, and the younger man shut his mouth in response.

 _Good,_ Eobard thought.

“Table for two please.” Eobard asked, and the hostess led them to a table with a remarkable view of the setting sun. She set the short menus down in front of them, and produced two wine glasses.

“Care to partake in any fine beverages tonight, gentlemen?” She asked.

“Oh no thanks.” Barry piped up before Eobard could answer. “Neither of us drink, just two waters with no ice, please.”

It was the cheapest option, and Eobard laughed.

“Coming right up.” The hostess said. “Your waitress will be with you shortly.”

Eobard was the first to take the menu and look through it. Barry watched him, knowing he was scanning it at high speed, and Barry did the same. He didn’t want to be _too_ behind Eobard.

“What do you want to eat, Barry?” Eobard asked him.

“Eo, everything on this menu is super expensive! There’s no way we can afford this. We can’t even afford the cheapest thing, because _we have no money._ ” Barry shut the menu, and Eobard did the same.

“Barry,” Eobard told him. “Look at me.”

Barry looked.

“Trust me, I have us covered.” Eobard promised.

Barry slapped his hands down, said no words, and got up and left. “I’ll be back.” He said, and stormed off.

Eobard remained calm, as always.

 _He will come back._ Eobard reassured himself. _He always will._

Eobard noticed a pretty waitress headed towards his table, and maintaining eye contact, he gave her a smile—meant to test whether or not she would be susceptible to his other charms. He noticed she blushed, and promptly looked away, focusing on preparation. His target had been acquired, and she was _perfect._

Eobard leaned back leisurely in his chair, put on an air of more confidence than usual, started shaking one of his legs—to seem bored and impatient, meant to draw her attention into trying to make him happy, because she _would_ want more of his smiles, that he knew—and waited for her to arrive.

If he chose to look back at her, he would have seen her trip on a loose brick, but quickly recover, not spilling a drop of the two glasses of water she held in her hands. However, he did no such thing, so this was lost on him.

“Hello!” She sputtered out once she arrived, “My name is Abella and I will be your server today!”

Eobard immediately decided she was far too excited. He also decided she was perfect for his plan. He moved forward, leaning on one elbow, hand on his chin—to look inquisitive, interested—and sent her another smile to hold attention.

“Why, hello Abella.” Eobard slowed down his voice, brought it low, and just the slightest bit raspy—emulating intimacy, closeness, and trust.

Eobard was far too charming for his own good.

Abella swallowed and her voice was high and quiet. “Can I start you off with an appetizer?”

“Yes, of course.” Eobard broke her gaze deliberately. “I’ll go ahead and order the cheese plate to start, and go from there.”

Another smile from Eobard.

“I’ll get that right out.” She turned and walked away.

Just then, Barry plopped down in the chair opposite of him.

“What the _hell_ are you doing?” Barry leaned forward. “You’re up to something, I know it.”

Eobard sent him the same smile he sent Abella, and Barry fumed.

“Eobard, answer me!” Barry was still quiet, but Eobard let him have his way.

“Just a few tricks I’ve learned throughout the years.” He answered simply, his voice still smooth. “I ordered us a cheese plate as an appetizer.”

“ _What?”_ Barry leaned back in his own chair, peeled the wrapper off his straw, and took some time to collect himself.

“I ordered us a cheese plate. It has Brie and other cheeses I don’t recognize but will probably enjoy.” He was still nonchalant as ever.

“No, Eobard, why were you flirting with her?”

“Jealous are we?” Eobard tempted.

Barry glared. Eobard knew him better than that.

Barry had come back from his ‘breather’ earlier than Eobard knew. Of course he _suspected_ , since Eobard had Barry down to a science, but Barry had stood far behind the older man, watching as he _flirted_ with their waitress from around a corner. Eobard knew Barry wasn’t the jealous type, but that didn’t change that Barry was very, _very_ confused.

Eobard wouldn’t have flirted with someone just for fun—he did have Barry after all, and everything Eobard did was carefully calculated—but Barry couldn’t figure out _why_ he was doing it _._ Not immediately, anyway.

“In my many years on _this_ Earth, I picked up a few things that people are susceptible to. It’s subtle suggestion if you will, or autosuggestion if you want to go by the books. It’s all about getting people to do what _you_ want, but making sure _they_ are the ones making the decisions.”

“So manipulation.” Barry stated.

“How do you think I strung you along all those years ago?” Eobard said.

Barry looked at him, a look of utter horror on his face. “Do you still—” Barry began, distrust briefly crossing him for a moment.

“Of course not, Barry. I quit once you learned who I was. It’s just _useful_ in times like these, and the skills never left me.”

“You promise me you haven’t pulled this shit on me since we started… being us?” Barry said, urgency and need in his eyes.

“I promise. On my life, Barry.” Eobard held out his hand, pinkie first, and Barry intertwined his own with Eobard’s. They shook once, and separated, but not before Eobard sent Barry a look, a genuine look, that promised he was telling the truth.

As always, Barry believed him, because now, _especially_ now, he had no reason not to. Not anymore.

“One more thing,” Eobard added, and Barry turned his attention back to him.

“Yes?”

“How good of an actor are you?”

“Pretty good, I think.” A pause. “Wait, why?”

“We need to masquerade.”

“We need to _what?”_ Barry was growing tired of Eobard’s games already.

“Well, if I’m working the angle I’m thinking of—”

Just then Abella returned, and Eobard sent Barry a look that shut him up immediately. “Your cheese plate is here!” Abella said, placing it in front of them.

“Mr. Allen, I’d like you to meet Abella, our waitress tonight. She’s been quite accommodating thus far.” Eobard brought back the smooth accent, the one laced in sugar and iced with deception. Barry could _not_ believe what he was seeing. It reminded him far too much of the Harrison Wells he once knew.

 _This is not happening right now,_ Barry thought, denying everything.

Abella glowed at Eobard’s praise.

Barry _glared_ at Eobard.

“It’s nice to meet you, Abella.” Barry said. “I’d like you to meet _Dr. Harrison Wells_ over here.”

“Please, call me Harrison.” Eobard told her—inspiring closeness again—and he winked at Abella.

“Sure!” Abella agreed. “What are you a doctor of, exactly?”

Barry wanted to throw up, knowing precisely what speech was coming her way.

“Originally I was a PhD researching chronodynamics—” _in the twenty-fifth century “—_ but now I serve the community as a CEO of a company called S.T.A.R. Labs. It’s based back in the states, where many scientists study and research a _multitude_ of things. I still give lectures on occasion, but my true passion remains in chronodynamics and the research and study wherein.”

Abella was enthralled, and Barry was 99.99% positive that she didn’t even know what chronodynamics was.

“Wow, that’s amazing. You’ve come a long way.” She commented.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Eobard smirked, gave another knowing smile, and Barry kicked him under the table. Eobard didn’t even flinch.

“Well, do you know what you want to eat?” She prompted.

“Yes, I’ll have the cheese soufflé, please.” Barry said, trying to draw her attention away from Eobard, so that she could _do her job_. She didn’t even _look_ at him. Did she even know he was here?

“My student and I will have the cheese soufflé, please.” Eobard gave her their orders.

Barry’s mouth dropped open.

“I’ll have those right out for you two.” She said, turning. “Mr. Allen, I believe?”

“Yes,” Barry confirmed, voice deadpan and unimpressed.

“You have a great teacher here.” She looked at Eobard, not Barry, when she said it.

“Oh, I am _fully_ aware of that.” Barry sent Eobard a death glare, talking to him instead of Abella, but she wouldn’t know that. Eobard returned it with an expression of pure smugness that it was suffocating, sickening, and Barry once again just wanted to throw up. Eobard laughed, and Barry angrily sliced some cheese and slipped it on a cracker, then bit into it with equal fury.

When he finished, he finally calmed down enough to speak again.

“Student? Seriously?” Barry questioned, voice stern.

“If she knew we were an item she wouldn’t be so susceptible to my suggestions.”

“Eobard, you’re playing with her emotions.”

“Barry, I’m _feeding_ you.” Eobard replied.

“We need to find a better solution for this in the future. I won’t let you do this again.” Barry said, an ultimatum.

“Yes, that solution is beating you back to Central City, where you will take me out to dinner at a place of my choosing.” Eobard answered.

“That is _not_ the deal!” Barry was losing his patience again. He sliced more cheese, the knife meeting the surface below the cheese loudly.

“Just play along, I’ll make it worth it, I promise.”

“Whatever you say, _Dr. Wells.”_ Barry had already eaten half of his portion of the plate. Eobard would have to start soon. He picked up his own knife, and cut himself some of the dairy selections.

“Oh, you just wait, _Mr. Allen.”_

They sat in silence until Abella brought them their entrees. Barry was conflicted, since yes, he was getting food, and he was hungry. But there was _no way_ they would be able to run back to Central City without eating first. At the same time, Eobard, in using his old manipulative skills—nearly the same ones he used on Barry when he was still known as Dr. Wells—was getting to Barry in a way that made him very, _very_ uncomfortable. He settled by reassuring himself that if he were to stab Eobard with his fork, at least the speedster would heal fast.

Barry made it two bites into the soufflé before Eobard stood up and walked over to stand behind Barry. He placed his hands on his shoulders, massaging the muscles that were under his skin lightly, but did so with practiced skill. Eobard’s fingers vibrated enough that Barry could feel it, but he knew no one else but he would notice.

“You worry too much.” Eobard told him.

Barry made a ‘mmmhmmm’ noise, and Eobard’s deft fingers hit a knot. Barry tensed, but relaxed once Eobard worked on it enough that the knot was loosening.

“Kind of not-platonic of you right now, Professor.”

Eobard chuckled.

“I’m getting you back for this.” Barry said, voice muffled.

“Of course you will.” Eobard leaned down and came close to Barry’s ear, his hands trailing up into his hair. “I expect no less of you.”

Eobard tugged on a few strands and pulled them out quicker than Barry could register what was happening and Eobard let Barry react how he would.

“No, seriously, I—Ah, Eo!” Barry nearly shrieked, but shoved it back and his words came out more of a hiss than a yell.

Eobard’s hands left him, and Barry saw a hand loosely covered in red lightning flash in front of him. Barry let time slow down around him, and he saw Eobard _slip the strands of Barry’s hair into the food,_ as if Barry, in his few bites, had stumbled upon them. It was so quick that no one but Barry would notice, and as usual, it was by design. Eobard returned to normal time, and walked over to his own seat, sat down, and cut into his own food. Then there was another flash, still slight, and Eobard had put himself in the same situation as he put Barry.

“Eobard, you didn’t.”

“Oh, I did,” Eobard smirked, and waved Abella over before Barry had a chance to protest. “Abella, can you come over here please.”

The woman nearly tripped over her damn feet trying to follow Eobard’s commands.

“Yes, Dr. Wells, what can I do for you?” She asked.

“Abella,” His voice slipped back into that easy tone of his. Barry didn’t have to worry about Abella staring, because she was wholly focused on Eobard. “Our food, me and—” Eobard paused, and let a disappointed look cross his face. Barry saw Abella tense, her face twisting. “—Mr. Allen here, our soufflés—” Eobard paused again, let Abella _wait_ on him to speak again. “—we found some, oh, how do I say it—” Barry saw Abella tense up, and her eyes nervously scanned the dishes she has brought, but she was already hanging on Eobard’s every word. “—they, have—” Another pause.

 _Could he go any slower?_ Barry thought. Even though Eobard was using _diabolical,_ tactics that made Barry shiver, he still didn’t dare say a word.

“—hair in them.” He finished, and Abella was _horrified_ that the soufflés she brought them _Eobard,_ were anything less than perfect. She struggled for words, stood up straight, and with a start, Barry realized why Eobard had ordered the same food as he. If they had eaten part of the same dish, it would be all too easy for them both to have the same problem: hair in the food.

“Oh dear, I am so sorry, Dr. Wells!” Barry could tell she was holding back tears. How on _earth_ had Eobard so easily have gotten her like this? Then again, he was strung along once, under the endless charm of Eobard Thawne.

Barry shuddered for the second time in the last thirty seconds.

Eobard noticed, and made a mental note to reassure the younger man later that he was safe _._ Eobard, while able to be horrifying and evil, would never be that way with Barry again. Ever. Briefly, Eobard fiddled with his Reverse Flash Ring, just to add to the façade of nervousness he was putting on for his act.

 _The best lies have an element of truth to them,_ Eobard thought silently, then let go of the ring, waiting for Abella to tell him exactly what he wanted to hear.

“I’ll get the manager, immediately, just—” She paused, at a loss for words, however brief. “—don’t leave, please.”

“Abella,” He repeated her name _again, “_ I wouldn’t dream of it.”

 _He has her hanging by a thread._ Barry thought.

Eobard met his eyes, but didn’t let on anything.

She smiled, blushing yet again, and walked away, clearly trying to put some speed in her step.

“What the _fuck,_ Eo?” Barry leaned forward again, whispering at Eobard.

“Trust me, Barry.” Eobard repeated.

Barry resigned, and leaned back in his chair once more, and waited in silence.

Abella returned soon after, manager in tow.

“I am _so_ sorry, to both of you.” The manager said. “I heard your food was—” He managed to be searching for the right words. Barry noticed Eobard was holding back a smile, struggling against the urge to let the corners of his lips turn up unto a wide grin. His plan was going _so_ smoothly. “—unsatisfactory.” The manager finished.

“Yes, it was—” Eobard too, paused. “— _unatisfactory.”_ His tone turned into subtle disgust.

“Well, I will let you two have two other dishes of your choice, unless you would rather have this one remade, and in addition to that, a dessert of your choosing, all on the house, including the appetizer you ordered earlier.” The manager stated.

It had been _exactly_ what Eobard had wanted to hear, and the look on Barry’s face, riddled with astonishment, was not lost on the older speedster.

“Thank you, you have been so very kind.” Eobard told him, but looked right at Abella as he did so. She blushed again, and both the manager and she walked away from Eobard and Barry’s table.

“How in the _hell_ did you do that?” Barry asked.

“I told you, years of experience and technical know how.” Eobard answered.

“Well,” Barry smiled. “Thank you.”

“I will _always_ take care of you, Barry. Always.”

It was then Barry’s turn to glow, and he didn’t bother hiding it.

The two enjoyed their food later. Barry still ordered the soufflé, and Eobard ordered a chicken dish. They shared a very calorie-filled dessert, and then, with one final wink at Abella, Eobard and Barry were on their way once more.

Barry wasn’t about to let Eobard get away with this, but he wasn’t about to complain either.

~

“There is absolutely _no way_ I am going to let you grift your way into stealing from someone else.” Barry said as the two stood in front of a _very_ fancy hotel situated in downtown Paris. “We could just stay in a hostel or something.”

“As valid as your suggestion may be, I’m sure we would both sleep better in a proper bed, in a proper bedroom.”

Barry seemed conflicted with his thoughts, weighing his morals. He wished that he had _some_ foresight to know that he and Eobard would have paused their race—hopefully just once—and Barry regretted preparing accordingly.

How _could_ he have known that the two of them would be in Paris for longer than a fraction of a second? The answer was that he couldn’t, and that left only one foreseeable option.

Barry sighed, “Fine, do your worst.”

Eobard motioned him through the revolving doors of the hotel, and Barry visibly flinched, just a little, after he took the first step. The bellboy greeted them, asked them if they had any bags that her could take to their room, and motioned them towards the front desk. Barry was getting visibly nervous, and Eobard gave up on leading Barry on any longer.

“Psst, Barry.” Eobard whispered.

“What?” Barry whispered back.

“I have something to show you.” Eobard motioned him closer, and Barry met his demands.

After a few seconds of silence, meant to build the suspense, Eobard reached into a pocket, and pulled out a card made of glittering silver that gleamed in the lights overhead. Barry instantly noticed the logo that was stamped on the card only a nanosecond after he caught the flash of a metallic strip that gleamed in the lights around them. Eobard deftly flipped it around several more times, even though he knew Barry had realized _exactly_ what it was he was looking at.

“You mean to tell me that this _entire_ time you’ve had _that_?” Barry hissed, grabbing at the card. Eobard let him take it, and Barry examined it closely in disbelief. It was Eobard’s S.T.A.R. Labs platinum card—one that was formed of a metal that even resembled platinum—and Barry did nothing but stare at Eobard in shock.

“As if I would ever leave Central City without _some_ method of payment.” Eobard plucked the card back from Barry’s hand, an easy task given how shocked the other speedster was.

Barry grabbed Eobard’s arm, digging his fingers into the other man’s bicep, which flexed immediately, and very much on purpose. Barry could feel the strong cords of muscle underneath, and he was reminded of how only a few days ago those arms had—

 _Oh_ no. _Not now._ Barry thought, and shoved down the thoughts, because he did _not_ need to be distracted by _that_ kind of thinking right now.

He channeled his frustrations by pulling Eobard into a far corner of the lobby, and the older man didn’t resist his tugging. It wasn’t rough, but Barry wasn’t leaving much room for Eobard to pull away without causing a scene. Once they were out of range of hearing of anyone around them—both the people at the desk and those loitering around the lobby—Barry let go of Eobard’s arm, along with any remaining thoughts of their recent trysts, and lowered his voice, just to be safe.

“Eo, you have _got_ to be kidding me! We stole _clothes_ today! And food—” Barry began in a loud whisper. Eobard kept from smiling in satisfaction and kept the smug expression off his face. It was enough to see Barry exasperated over his minor treachery.

“—the food was not stolen.” Eobard corrected.

“You grifted that waitress! And I’m _still_ not over that!”

“She made the decision to drop our tab.” Eobard said, his voice still unceasingly calm.

“Only because you made the decision for her! That’s _illegal_ Eobard.”

“Have you actually taken the time to read all the laws of this country?”

Barry paused, then turned away. “Well, no.” He said quietly, the urgency in his voice dropping.

Eobard stepped closer, and Barry lifted up his head to look at him after Eobard had coaxed his face upwards with a finger under his chin that tickled his neck lightly.

“Then you don’t actually know if it’s illegal or not.” Eobard told Barry, dropping his hands to Barry’s arms, rubbing up and down soothingly.

“Eobard that’s—”

“—not fair?”

“Yes! You can’t do that!”

“But my logic is sound.” Eobard stated. “You can see that.”

“Just shut up and let me kiss you.” Barry said, and quickly gave Eobard a quick kiss before he could say anything else, and then walked over to the desk, where the woman there was staring in the aftermath of Barry and Eobard’s sudden display of affection.

Barry ignored it. It wasn’t as if people hadn’t stared at them throughout the whole day, not when they had held hands for most of it.

“One room please, with the biggest bed you have and _all_ the amenities.” Barry said before Eobard could come up next to him.

Barry let the corner of his lips turn up in a small smile.

“So, a suite?” The woman asked.

It was that moment that Eobard returned to Barry, wrapped his arm around his waist, and pinched him in the ribs. Barry yelped, and pulled away, but Eobard held him tight enough that Barry stayed at Eobard’s side, settling against him promptly.

“Yes, a suite.” Eobard confirmed, knowing Barry was blushing strongly even though his head was down as he tried to ignore the stares of those around him.

Eobard handed over his platinum card, and the woman at the desk looked at him and tried not to drop her mouth open in surprise.

“You, you’re… _the_ Harrison Wells?” She sputtered. “CEO of S.T.A.R. Labs?”

 _Oh boy,_ Barry thought, getting even redder in the face, but snapped his head up in surprise.

“The one and only.” Eobard answered.

Barry couldn’t believe what he was hearing, for the second time in the last few hours alone, and Eobard was enjoying this far too much.

“I’m—” The woman began, trying to run his card and failing because her hands were too shaky. “I’m a big fan of your work, both before and after the particle accelerator explosion.”

“Well, it’s always nice to meet a fan. My most fruitful experiments—” he squeezed Barry closer to him, and Barry understood the implication immediately, eyes widening. “—have done a lot of good in the world by helping a lot of people, and I appreciate your compliments to the bottom of my heart.” Eobard sent her a bright smile. Barry just wanted to be out of here, nowhere near this woman or anyone else.

Also, he was going to _slaughter_ Eobard when he finally got the man alone.

She finally finished running Eobard’s card, and handed it back to him with a kind word of thanks. “No, thank _you_ , and I hope you have a good evening.” Eobard said, and pulled the still-shocked Barry towards the escalators.

“That’s something I haven’t heard in a while.” Eobard said, simultaneously breaking the silence and letting Barry go, sighing once they stopped. “It does me good to hear that name again.”

“I am _not_ one of your experiments!” Barry said quietly.

“Not _you_ , no, but the Flash most certainly was my most successful one.” Eobard smiled and looked at him with a fondness that Barry hadn’t seen in a while, and Barry blushed all the way to the bottom of his neck. Half of him was angry and the other half was still filled with lingering embarrassment. But then there was another part that still surprised at Eobard’s last words. Was the other speedster _still_ proud of him, after all this time?

Of _course_ he was.

Sure, the Flash _had_ been Eobard’s greatest accomplishment that only few knew about. And sure, Eobard _definitely_ held it over Barry’s head on occasion—after all, Eobard had such a strong sense of pride it astonished Barry how often it appeared—but rarely had he suggested that claim in public. Barry tried to ignore that in the best way he possibly could—with a few biting words and name-dropping to cover up the satisfaction he felt from it. It was a satisfaction that Eobard knew was always there, ever since the younger speedster had awoken from his coma so many months ago.

“Shut up, Thawne.” Barry said, his finger slamming into the elevator button with more force than necessary.

Then again, none of Eobard’s claims over the creation of the Flash—not the creation of Barry Allen, and he made sure Barry knew this—was used _against_ Barry per se, but Eobard _did_ enjoy bringing it up since it still got a pleasurable reaction out of the younger man.

“Oh come _on,_ Barry, you know I don’t meet many fans, especially since we are overseas now. It’s honestly amazing that I was even recognized. Even you have to see that.” Eobard defended.

“I’m just going to forget this happened—” Barry said, ignoring the older man’s words, and they stepped onto the elevator.

“—and I’m going to remember this for centuries.” Eobard added.

Barry rolled his eyes, and silently urged the elevator to go faster, pressing the button a few more times just for good measure.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to @cardinalstar for beta-ing this chapter, and giving me good feedback and helping with ideas! 
> 
> Also, I'm GideonShipsIt for anyone who wants to check me out on tumblr!
> 
> Thanks for reading! And for all the lovely comments and kudos you guys left me last chapter.
> 
> ＼(^o^)／


	4. Paris (Part III)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eobard and Barry get some much-needed sleep and enjoy a seductive breakfast.
> 
> #yolo

Their room was actually quite nice. Eobard couldn’t be bitter about Barry’s ostentatious choice of room, not when there was a massive bathroom with a bathtub that could seat two _easily,_ and a bed that—

A warm body was suddenly right next to Eobard’s, and Barry’s arms wrapped around him in a brief hug.

“I chose well, and you _know_ it.” Barry said as he turned to Eobard and flicked him on the nose lightly.

Eobard was not impressed. It was still _his_ credit card. Then again, all his assets were meant for Barry in the event that—

“Yes, yes you did.” Eobard confirmed drily, looking to the bed again.

The bed that _demanded_ a certain young speedster be thrown down onto it.

Barry’s hand clapped on his back once, a loud _thwack!_ that caused Eobard to jump.

“Well, I’m going to air out my suit. It’s been through a thousand miles or so.” Barry winked, and Eobard let him walk away to their shared bathroom.

Eobard heard Barry’s suit free itself from its ring, and the sound of the material being swung over the top of the shower door—which was made of glass, so it echoed a little louder than anticipated—carried to Eobard’s ears a few seconds later. Barry took a few real-time seconds to adjust the suit and then returned to see Eobard doing the same with the Reverse-Flash ensemble. He had hung it on a clothes hanger provided by the hotel, and then placed it in the closet.

The one thing Barry didn’t expect was to return to see Eobard with his clothes off.

He blanched.

“See something you like?” Eobard teased after he silently confirmed that the other’s brain was in the act of short-circuiting. That knowledge just _did_ things to him. Eobard wiggled his hips for good measure, just to tease the other man, which he loved to do _relentlessly._

“No, just didn’t expect for you to be so ready for sleep this early.” Barry said coyly, trying to ignore Eobard’s efforts.

“Oh I’m ready for sleep Barry.” Eobard countered as he walked over and grabbed him by the fabric of the front of his shirt. He tightened his hold and pulled Barry towards him. “Ready for sleeping with _you._ ”

Barry rolled his eyes, and Eobard’s gaze went down then up again, scanning him.

When Eobard finished looking him over, his hands—still wrapped in Barry’s shirt—started vibrating. It was focused, sure, and Barry saw the older speedster’s brow furrowed in concentration.

Barry realized what Eobard was doing too late.

“Eo, you’re not—”

Eobard ignored him, choosing instead to phase Barry’s clothes right off of him.

“Goddammit, Eobard, _why_?” Barry exclaimed. “Give those back.” He demanded, lunging. Eobard flashed backwards, holding Barry’s clothes just out of his reach. They repeated the action, and Barry gave up, sighing in frustration.

“You look cute when you need me.” Eobard told him.

Barry stood before the older speedster, cold. Barry wrapped his slender arms around himself, but it did nothing to help erase the chill on his skin.

“I don’t need _you_ , I need a blanket.” Barry turned away from the older man and stalked towards the blankets on the bed, but Eobard flashed forward and cut him off.

“But _I’m_ warmer.”

“Fine.” Barry said as he let himself be pulled into Eobard’s arms, cuddling close easily, the action familiar. The feel of Eobard’s skin on his own was calming, and the sensation—however slight—subdued Barry’s racing thoughts.

And then Eobard did what he had wanted to do since he had set eyes on the bed.

Barry was suddenly turned around before he felt his legs buckle out from underneath him. Eobard pushed him down to the bed by his shoulders, climbing over Barry to rest on top of his hips. Before Eobard could go farther, Barry flipped him over in a swift and practiced motion. He leaned over Eobard, blocking out the overhead lighting and inadvertently giving himself a golden aura that was _very_ pleasing to the older man.

Eobard just smiled.

“Well played,” He smirked and wiggled his hips beneath Barry.

Barry sighed, “Not tonight, Eo.”

It was then Eobard’s turn to sigh, and he stilled in acceptance. Barry kissed his forehead once in an unnecessary apology, but Eobard still appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. Barry started to roll off of him, but Eobard had other thoughts. Even if Barry didn’t want to be _sexually_ intimate, he thought that they may still be able to share the intimacy that comes with being close to one another.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Eobard said as Barry rolled right into his waiting arms to be pulled close. The older man calmed and waited for Barry to give the green light.

Barry grinned. “Absolutely nowhere.”

Eobard let out a sigh of relief and nudged the other man to turn over so that Barry would be facing away from him. Barry responded instantly, snuggling backwards into Eobard’s hold. It was easy, practiced. He let the older man trap him in a squid-like embrace, that while nigh inescapable—and Barry _had_ tried—was still undoubtedly safe. When all was said and done, the younger speedster was nestled comfortably. One of Eobard’s legs was draped over Barry’s to tug him closer and one of his arms was secured around Barry’s middle. Barry settled, his head relaxing quickly on Eobard’s bicep, his back warm against the other’s chest.

“Goodnight Eobard.” Barry said, twisting his head to kiss Eobard on the cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Barry.” Eobard replied, kissing Barry’s hair and breathing in the scent that always seemed to calm _him,_ but Barry didn’t have to know that. Not yet, at least. “Always.”

“Always.”

And with that, Barry fell asleep, reassured in the raw strength Eobard had wrapped around him, and Eobard planned to quickly follow him into unconsciousness. When he finally drifted off, the last thing he felt was happiness, and even while he slept, Eobard never loosened the hold he had on his _treasure_ , his _creation_ , the man who was his greatest achievement and his most excellent success. Barry Allen was, without a doubt, the sole pearl in the oyster that was the world of Eobard Thawne.

Barry Allen belonged to him, yes, but Eobard also belonged equally to Barry Allen.

~

Eobard woke up to teeth nibbling on his neck and a warm body heavy on top of him. He silently cursed himself for letting Barry climb on top of him _while he was sleeping_ , but at the same time he couldn’t complain because _Barry’s teeth were on his neck._ The man was sucking a goddamn hickey in the juncture between his shoulder and his throat and it was driving Eobard _wild._

But then, he also smelled something, and was that… steak?

The older man entangled his fingers in the younger man’s hair and gently pulled Barry’s teeth off of him so he could look the other speedster in the eyes, along with beginning to get some of his focus back.

“Barry did you order steak?” Eobard asked him, and Barry _grinned._ Eobard gave his hair another pull. “For _breakfast?”_

“Room service, courtesy of S.T.A.R. Labs.” Barry winked.

Eobard abruptly dropped his hold on Barry’s hair and the younger man’s forehead promptly slammed into Eobard’s collarbone. Barry let out a brief gasp, more out of surprise than pain, and Eobard’s chest heaved with laughter. Barry flashed over to the food at the door before Eobard could see him flush with embarrassment.

Of course, Eobard knew it was happening anyway.

Barry returned to the bed wrapped in a robe that was provided by the hotel that hung rather large on his frame. As much as the fabric swallowed him, it was a good look, and the image pleased Eobard greatly.

Barry began cutting away at his steak, and Eobard noticed that his own portion was still on the cart. Barry hadn’t had the courtesy to bring it over to him. Eobard was about to flash over to retrieve his food, but then Barry was sticking a speedster bite-sized chunk of cooked flesh under his nose and _damn_ did it smell _delicious._

“You know, in the civilized world, people eat with silverware.” Eobard told him.

Barry said nothing, instead moving the piece of meat to nudge at Eobard’s lips. Not surprisingly, Eobard took the unspoken cue to open his mouth, and with his own teeth, tugged on the steak gently. Before Barry could really register what was happening, Eobard called upon the Speedforce, snatched the steak from the grip where it was held between Barry’s index finger and his thumb, chewed and swallowed it lightning fast, and abruptly took Barry’s fingers into his own mouth.

It was only then that Eobard allowed Barry to react.

Barry promptly dropped the fork he held in his other hand, and it clattered to the plate loudly. Eobard’s lips smiled from where they caressed Barry’s fingers, and he made sure to not let his eyes drop from Barry’s as he continued to tease. Eobard was artful with his tongue, executing the right motions to elicit certain images in Barry’s mind. Although Barry knew exactly what Eobard was doing, he was absolutely powerless to stop it, and frankly, didn’t want to. Eobard brought his hand up to wrap his fingers around Barry’s to keep him where he wanted him and—of course—was met with _zero_ resistance.

If Barry was going to play a game with him, then Eobard was determined to play it _better._

The younger man’s eyes grew darker, and Barry didn’t even bother trying to hide it. His cheeks were growing redder and Eobard himself tried to ignore his own arousal steadily growing under the sheets in favor of watching Barry fall apart in front of him. He saw Barry’s mouth drop open involuntarily and went in for the kill.

The hand that held Barry’s fingers moved to wrap around Barry’s wrist, and Eobard’s free hand found the back of Barry’s neck, clasping around it strongly. He sat up straighter, and pulled Barry first to him to clash their lips together and second to push him onto his back so that Eobard could firmly press him into the mattress for the sole purpose of leaving him flustered, frustrating, and _wanting._

When Barry’s free hand started to trace meaningless patterns on Eobard’s back—something he often did mindlessly when he couldn’t think straight during their… lovemaking—Eobard knew he had won.

Which meant that Eobard was free to flash right off of Barry’s body, wrap himself up in the remaining robe in the bathroom, whisk himself over to the room service tray, and settle down at the breakfast table in the room to begin eating _his_ steak.

Barry propped himself up by his elbows on the bed, his robe in disarray, his disappointment and shock clear, and merely stared at Eobard as the older speedster _very_ suggestively ate a piece of freshly cut steak out of his own fingers, repeating the same motions he used on Barry earlier.

The scarlet speedster _seethed._

“You’re evil.” Barry stated.

“I know.” Eobard said.

“Like, diabolical.” Barry clarified.

“I’m well aware of my character alignment Barry.” Eobard raised an eyebrow and pointed his knife at him, and Barry let out a sound that was close to a growl as he gave up and fell back on the bed.

Barry turned his head to look at him. “Fuck you, Eo.”

“Maybe.” Eobard winked, and ate another piece of steak.

Barry disappeared to the bathroom in a flurry of yellow lightning, not even bothering to open the door. He just phased right through it.

Though it was brief, Eobard _did_ notice that the tail end of Barry’s robe remained fused in the door, but Barry had learned from yesterday’s conundrum—though Eobard considered it the reverse—and pulled the rest of the robe through immediately.

Eobard finished his steak and kept the knowledge to himself, tucking it away with his other treasures that were the many moments in the life of Barry Allen that only Eobard had the pleasure of observing, knowing, and experiencing.

~

“I think we should go to Ireland next.”

“Eobard, this isn’t a world tour,” Barry told him as he flashed on his clothes. Eobard was doing the same. Their checkout time was in ten minutes—not that they were worried about it being that they were speedsters and all—but that didn’t stop Eobard from taking a few seconds to send his signature oh-really-Barry-think-about-your-words look.

“Okay, fine,” Barry paused, “But Ireland _is_ backtracking. We would make no progress.”

“I know a fantastic bar.” Eobard walked over to where his suit hung on its hanger, and sent it back into his ring. “And there are a few other things I want to show you in Dublin.”

“I didn’t know you’d been to Ireland before.” Barry stopped in the act of putting his own suit back in its ring. As far as Barry knew, Eobard had lived in Central City this whole time, and the thought of him taking a _vacation?_ It was just so… foreign.

“ _I_ haven’t.”

Okay, now Barry was just downright confused.

“Harrison Wells on the other hand…” Eobard pointed to his face.

 _Oh you have_ got _to be kidding me,_ Barry thought.

“So you wanna show me the world then, Doc?” Barry grinned. “Shining, shimmering, splendid?”

What the _fuck_ was Barry going on about?

Eobard froze. His face twisted into a mixture of confusion and frustration—very _typical_ of how the older man reacted when he didn’t understand what was going on—and his head cocked to the side.

“…what?” Eobard asked, his voice quiet.

Barry’s mouth dropped open. “Okay, it’s settled then, when we get back to Central City, I am going to lock you in our room and force you to watch _Aladdin_ with me—”

“—I can deal with that—”

“—and I am going to sing along to _every_ song—” Barry continued.

“—okay I take back my former statement, Barry—”

“—and you’re just going to have to deal with it because you _loooooovvvvveeeeee_ me.”

“—as much as I like your voice, _no.”_

Barry laughed.

Eobard held back the urge to slap him and instead regained his composure, took Barry’s hand in his own, and dragged him towards the door before Barry could argue.

“We’re going to Ireland.” Eobard took both of their room keys, shut the door quickly behind them, held the two cards in front of Barry’s surprised face, and shattered them easily. “Unless you want to forfeit.”

Barry couldn’t shake his head quickly enough.

“Good,” was all Eobard said before he took off, threw off his other clothes into a haphazard pile on the floor—which Barry was _pissed_ about—and flashed into his suit.

In the wake of red lightning, Eobard left an afterimage—and it only lasted a second, but Barry saw it nonetheless—of himself wickedly smirking in Barry’s direction with two middle fingers held up in the air.

“Fuck you too, Eo,” Barry said to the silence before disappearing in his own flurry of yellow lightning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to cardinalstar for help with certain details - specifically the Aladdin lyrics - and for mentioning steak while I was writing this.


	5. Ireland (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eobard and Barry continue their journey in Ireland, and finally define the terms of their "race". 
> 
> There also may or may not be kilts involved. And story-telling.

Naturally, Eobard beat Barry to Ireland. He was fueled by determination, and as such, his competitiveness was ramped up to its highest setting. In those moments, with a head start, Barry stood absolutely no chance.

Of course, their race wasn’t over, so when Barry finally did catch up to Eobard—once the older man had stopped—he wasn’t pissed, but was _laughing_. Eobard stood twenty feet from Barry when he stopped running, and Barry walked the last few steps it took to join the other man. But then, where they were… it wasn’t Dublin, was it? They weren’t stopping in a city, they were stopping on… cliffs?

Eobard threw an arm loosely around Barry’s tripolymer-clad shoulder, gesturing to the landscape around them with his other arm. They stood on a wide precipice, so close to the edge that the wind coming off the sea was hitting him right in the face. Before them was a steep drop off to a crashing sea below, that spanned out beyond what Barry or Eobard could see. Barry pulled off his cowl when he saw Eobard doing the same, and the sea breeze salted his hair as they stood there. To either side, the cliffs continued for some ways, each having the same sheer dropoff.

“ _Aillte an Mhothair_ ” Eobard said, voice soft in Barry’s ear.

“Hmm?” Barry asked, because that sounded like gibberish.

“The Cliffs of Moher” Eobard introduced. “That’s where we are.”

“Oh.” Barry looked back out to sea. “They’re… beautiful.”

“Like you.” Eobard pressed a kiss to his temple and the scarlet speedster blushed. Eobard smiled at the sight.

“Thanks.” Barry said. “This is kind of romantic, you know. Us being here, staring over a wide expanse of sea… It’s almost like you took me on a date.”

“Well maybe that was my plan all along.” Eobard leaned his head on Barry’s shoulder after looking around them both for any oncoming tourists or authorities.

“You’re already my boyfriend, Eo, you don’t have to try.” Barry told him, reassuring his lover. “You already have me.”

“All to myself, yes, I know.” Eobard stepped back, and Barry felt a little empty and confused. “May we have a mini race?”

“Amidst the big one?” Barry clarified, suspicious.

“Yes.” Eobard confirmed.

Barry nodded, a gesture that urged Eobard to go on.

“I propose we race from this cliff,” Eobard pointed at the ground, “To that one, over there.” Eobard referenced a cliff that was no more than 6 kilometers away. It would take less than a nanosecond to transverse such a distance, and Barry had been getting better at acceleration as of late…

“You’re on,” Barry said. “I accept your challenge with full intent of beating you. Just say when, Professor Thawne.”

Barry pulled up his cowl and moved into a running pose, and Eobard did the same. When he finally sounded the mark, they both took off.

To no one’s surprise, the race _was_ over in less than a second.

Eobard stood smug, looking at Barry, who arrived just a tad later than Eobard had. “Oh, how good it feels to win against the _mighty_ Flash.” Eobard said, smirking.

“You’re always so _dramatic.”_ Barry said, waltzing up to him and wiggling his hips.

“You like it though.” Eobard grabbed Barry’s shoulders and pulled him close for a consolation hug.

“Yeah,” Barry agreed, melting into the touch, “I do.” The admission was easy, welcomed, accepted, and Barry was perfectly okay with Eobard choosing where they spent lunch, since the older man has better taste than microwave-pizza-and-kraft-mac-and-cheese-eating Barry Allen.

But before they took off to eat, Eobard grasped Barry’s hand in his own, and started walking. Barry followed him and Eobard let the old Harrison Wells’ memories guide him. Eobard couldn’t wait to show Barry this side of the world, and frankly, couldn’t wait to see it with his _own_ eyes. Barry squeezed the other’s hand, and Eobard decided—for the millionth time—that he was the luckiest man in the entire multiverse.

~

“If I was going to build a castle, I would build it here.” Eobard told Barry. They were sitting on the edge of one of the cliffs, their feet dangling loosely over the crashing water below.

“You would be dead by the time it was done building.” Barry replied.

Eobard winked. “Not if I ran forward in time.”

Barry nodded. Eobard could win _that_ one.

“Harrison Wells wanted to live here. For a short time.” Eobard began, face growing somber for a second before Eobard shoved the thought down. “He liked the views, the wide expanse of land, the history, the music… all things that I now like because of him.”

Barry didn’t have anything to say to that, but he did lean his head on Eobard’s shoulder. The sun was almost at its highest point in the sky, and Barry’s stomach _was_ growling. If the younger speedster listened hard enough, he could hear Eobard’s stomach growling too. Neither of them wanted to move.

Eobard continued. “It was actually here, on this very cliff, that Harrison proposed to Tess.” Barry stiffened. “She said yes, of course.”

“Eobard, if this is your way of asking me to marry you, you’re doing a pretty shitty job.” Barry said, trying to lighten the mood. Being reminded of how much Eobard had taken from the original Harrison Wells wasn’t a... romantic subject.

The older man scoffed, “Barry, you know I’m better than that.”

“Maybe you are.” Barry moved a little closer to him, and the sea breeze was getting stronger.

“Either way, these cliffs are special, and I’m glad I got to show them to you,” _and myself,_ Eobard thought. “But now…”

Without _any_ warning, Eobard—always a sucker for dramatic irony—picked Barry up and held him bridal style.

“Eeeeeeeooooooooooooo—” Is what Barry got out before he was whisked away. Barry heard the _boom!_ When Eobard broke the sound barrier, and any other exclamations were either left behind or never got out of Barry’s mouth. Running faster than the speed of sound, while exhilarating and _awesome,_ was a very, _very_ quiet activity for those fortunate enough to be going at such a speed. Of course, shattered windows and car alarms followed, but Barry never _heard_ any of it.

Barry looked around, and expected Eobard to take him to the city, to take him away from the cliffs and towards civilization.

But now Barry was falling _and_ he couldn’t even hear his own shouts as he fell.

Hitting water was unexpected. Having it really, really hurt was _definitely_ unexpected, but fast healing at least helped _that_ part.

But then Barry was coming up for air—it wasn’t like he sunk much, the water slowed him down pretty fast the second he hit it—and he was confused, and… alone?

Barry came up from the depths yelling, and was promptly hit with a large wave that drowned out his words.

“Eobaaaaahhhhhh!” Barry shouted as he was sent tumbling. He corrected, and came back up again for round two. “Eobard!”

“Hmm?” Eobard said innocently. He was chilling close by, floating on his back in the pristine waters, bobbing up and down with the push and pull of the waves. They were far enough away that they weren’t in danger of crashing into rock, but the cliffs were still imposing.

“You just _tossed me off a goddamn cliff!”_ Barry exclaimed.

“Cliff jumping is an extreme sport, and many have it on their bucket list.” Eobard explained.

“I don’t have it on mine to get _thrown_ off a cliff!”

“But cliff jumping is on it?” Eobard sounded honest-to-god _hopeful._

“Eobard!” Barry splashed him when he didn’t know what else to say. Eobard didn’t splash him back.

“At least I dove after you, and that drop was only 100 meters.” Eobard smirked. “You should be grateful I didn’t toss you off a _200_ meter cliff, and I _do_ care about your health.”

Barry shoved him under the water.

“That’s debatable.” Barry said to the water where Eobard used to be.

Eobard kicked Barry in the shins until the younger man let him come up to the surface. Barry didn’t try again. His bruises could speak for themselves.

“Barry!” Eobard scowled.

“Eobard!” Barry mocked.

Eobard glared at him, and Barry glared back as he tried not to flinch when Eobard finally splashed him back at superspeed, though the rapid assault of artificial waves could only be defended against for so long.

Barry retaliated, creating a vortex under the water that pulled Eobard down slightly—Barry wouldn’t make it _too_ powerful—enough that the attack on Barry’s well-being was halted.

“Truce?” Eobard said, arms paddling quickly to keep him above the water. Barry would be lying if he wasn’t having a _little_ fun.

Barry held out his hand. Eobard reached to grab it, but slipped lower when he lost half of his ability to stay comfortably afloat. He tried again, and once more he failed.

Barry laughed, stopping the vortex.

“Truce.” Barry accepted, throwing out his hand again to allow Eobard to grab it. “So.. where are we going for lunch?”

“You’ll see.” Eobard winked, and sped off towards the shore. He obviously knew the area better, so it only made sense that Barry would follow him.

Naturally, when they got out of the water, they were soaked. The younger speedster was convinced Eobard didn’t think this through until he saw Eobard was suddenly naked. Again.

“What are you _doing?”_ Barry hissed urgently. “Get your suit back on!”

“Hang on, I’m getting rid of the water. Look.” Eobard and his naked self pointed to the sizable pool of water beneath him. “Putting the suit back in its ring removes all of the water. You can’t fit all that liquid in the ring, so it has no choice other than to fall off into a puddle.”

Barry nodded, then shook his head. “That doesn’t mean you should be _naked_ out here, though.”

“Well, I was waiting for you.” Eobard said. “And this breeze does feel good.”

“You are _such_ a tease, I fucking swear.” The younger man scoffed and abjectly removed his own suit, let the water fall down, and then immediately put it back on before Eobard could really take Barry in.

“And you’re no fun.” Eobard crossed his arms.

“Get your suit back on. I’m hungry.” Barry ordered. “Also we have a race to run. Our crazy wild speedster sex life can wait.”

Eobard slipped on his suit when Barry turned his back, “Not forever.”

“But a little bit longer.”

“Barry…”

“Hmm?”

“What are you getting at?” They had been dancing around the subject since their race started.

“As if _you_ don’t know.” Barry looked over his shoulder, a _very_ enticing gesture.

“Well, I had my educated guesses, but withholding our sex life for the sake of a race is ridiculous.”

“Maybe so, but this was only supposed to be ‘Around the World in 80 Seconds’ not ‘Eobard and Barry’s World Tour’” Barry said, turning to face Eobard fully again.

“This is _not_ what I meant when I said we should spice up our sex life!” Eobard yelped.

Barry smiled. “Global foreplay isn’t something that appeals to _you?”_ Barry asked, voice thick with disbelief.

What did Barry take him for? Though the younger man wasn’t wrong… the idea _was_ rather appealing.

“Then what _do_ I get when I beat you back to Central City?” Eobard asked.

Barry held his chin higher and stepped forward into the older man’s space. “Me. However you want.”

Eobard swallowed. “And what do you get?”

“That’s up to you.” Barry pecked him on the lips. “You’ll have plenty of time to decide.”

It didn’t take long for Eobard to realize what he had to do. He groaned, partly out of how he got himself into this situation in the first place, and partly because he hated himself for really liking the idea.

“Fine, I bet the same.”

It was Barry turn to swallow then, and Eobard returned Barry’s previous peck.

“At least the terms are defined.” Eobard said.

“Thank god, I wasn’t sure you were getting my hints,” Barry moved closer, and Eobard put his arms around the younger man’s back, holding him close.

“Barry, I _always_ get your hints.”

Eobard laughed softly in reassurance, and Barry nuzzled closer in lieu of speaking, breathing in the salt left on Eobard’s skin. Then, Barry didn’t hear Eobard’s stomach growl, he _felt_ it.

“Okay, we are getting food.” Barry pulled back. “Now.”

Eobard nodded, and took the lead.

They ran until they reached a back alley in Dublin, and Barry pulled Eobard to a stop. They skidded, and the older man hissed when his speedster shoes scuff.

“You know I had to make this suit myself. I didn’t have a ‘Cisco Ramon’ to make it for me.” Eobard told him as he checked the tip of his boot. Barry scoffed at the use of their mutual friend as a noun, but didn’t argue.

“You do now, though.” Barry said instead. “We need clothes _again,_ Eo.”

Eobard flashed Barry an absolutely _wicked_ smile before flashing his S.T.A.R. Labs card, holding up an index finger, and then just flashing off.

Barry, being smart, waited.

Eobard returned ten minutes later with bags in his hands. He changed at superspeed after tossing Barry’s bag at him, and when Eobard was done, Barry. Just. Gaped.

Because Eobard Thawne had not only _bought_ a kilt, but was _wearing_ it.

And he.

Looked.

_Good._

“It’s 100% authentic wool tartan.” Eobard explained, “So don’t get it _wet.”_

Eobard didn’t exactly twirl _,_ but he did move in a slow circle that made Barry’s throat dry. The older man was also wearing a black sweater to match, which wasn’t helping _anything,_ specifically Barry’s libido _._

“Well?” Eobard gestured to the bag in Barry’s hands. “Are you going to put it on? Or do I have to do it for you?”

“I think I can manage.” Barry said, glancing into the bag and saw not just a kilt and sweater, but a _matching_ kilt and sweater.

He rolled his eyes, but changed into the clothes anyway.

Eobard smiled. “It looks good on you.” Eobard flashed over to Barry’s backside, and gave him a light slap on the ass. Barry straightened. “Also, you _do_ know you’re not supposed to wear underwear with a kilt, Barry, right?”

Barry blushed far past the collar of his black sweater.

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” Barry couldn’t stop the glance he gave Eobard’s crotch, and Eobard _definitely_ saw him look. “Oh god, you’re not wearing any, are you?”

“I have to keep it traditional, and you should too. When in Ireland…” Eobard’s voice trailed off, and he gestured to Barry’s crotch with a wink.

Barry couldn’t _kill_ Eobard, but he was _absolutely_ going to get him back for this.

~

They ended up at another small café, and Eobard paid for their meals—because Barry still wasn’t over the grifting Eobard did the last time they ate at a café—before they relaxed with coffee for the next few hours. At first, it was weird that Eobard was telling Barry stories about the original Harrison Wells, but when the stories he was telling were enticing and interesting, Barry got over it for the sake of his own entertainment.

In addition, Barry was long past _most_ the darkness of Barry and Eobard’s shared past, and it was better to accept things as they were and try to enjoy the rest. If that included hearing tales about Harrison Wells and Tess Morgan, then Barry was fine with it.

It also helped that Eobard told the stories in third person, in the sense that they felt more akin to tales passed down through generations or in between friends rather than memories of the man who Eobard killed and stole a life from.

“It was in the fall of 1999…”

And Eobard continued.

~

_“What if we went to Ireland for our honeymoon?” Harrison said, face giddy. Tess sat across from him in the pub booth. They each had drinks and used plates and utensils in front of them._

_“You want to come back here?” Tess said, levity thick in her voice. “To this beautiful place where you swept me off my feet and asked me to marry you?”_

_“Well, when we have the wedding, it would be nice to take you back her, to that exact spot, and kiss you again like I kissed you hours ago.” Harrison smiled, and Tess smiled back, unconsciously spinning the ring on her left hand._

_“It’s not a bad idea.”_

_“Well how about this,” He began, “Pick a place. Anywhere. And I’ll follow you there to the ends of the earth.”_

_Tess blushed. Harrison knew she wanted to go everywhere, to see everything. Their honeymoon wouldn’t be the last adventure they took, it was just another stop on their long list of destinations._

_“Dublin.” She told him. “I absolutely want to go back to Dublin.”_

_“Going to Ireland twice in a year? Tess, that’s ridiculous.”_

_She glared at him playfully and punched him in the shoulder._

_“Sounds like a deal.” He told her, reaching across the table to grab her hand. “For now, we can just stall for time until we come back.”_

_“We are stalling for_ borrowed _time, Harrison,”_

_“Always reminding me of humanity’s unfortunate innate characteristic of mortality.” He smiled. It was warm. “Maybe I’ll fix that one day.”_

_“You’ll fix lots of things, do_ amazing _things. I have faith.” Tess squeezed his hand._

_“Unwavering.” Harrison added._

_~_

“—and she’d said that she loved him, and of course, he told her he loved her back.” Eobard finished.

Barry was _not_ crying. No sir. Just hiding behind his coffee cup and sure there were onions in the air, somewhere. And he _definitely_ wasn’t crying because of the conflicting emotions that arose from hearing such a tale.

“Eobard,” was what Barry said.

“Yes?”

“That wasn’t in your autobiography.” Barry continued, finishing off his latte. Eobard waved down the waitress and ordered another for him. They weren’t going anywhere for a while.

“Well maybe I will do a sequel. Name it _Harrison Wells: After the Particle Accelerator._ ”

“ _Risen from the Ashes: A Journey of Rebirth and Speedforce Bullshit_ ,” suggested Barry.

“ _Switching Bodies: The Path to Villainy_.”

“ _Patience: Eobard’s Guide to Revenge_.”

“ _How to Hack the Powers of Your Enemy and Show them Who’s Boss_.”

“ _Becoming the Reverse-Flash: Don’t try this at home,_ ” Barry joked.

Eobard burst into laughter before he could make another outlandish title of a second autobiography, and then finished off his mocha. Barry was the one to flag down the waitress this time, and Eobard wasn’t about to argue with him. He was also physically incapable of _any_ disagreement. Laughter was a powerful thing.

Eobard continued telling fantastical stories about the many adventures of the original Harrison Wells. How he liked travelling, got along with everyone, and how he _loved_ coffee…

~

 _Harrison took a sip of chocolatey goodness from his Jitters mug. It was 2000 and the weather outside was_ beautiful.

 _“—but if you approach the speed of light, you theoretically_ could _travel through time!” Harrison was excited, nearly jumping up and down in his seat._

_“And you think the way to explore this hypothesis is to build a particle accelerator?” Tina McGee sat across from him, sipping her own coffee._

_“Yes!”_

_Tina looked at him skeptically._

_Harrison raised an eyebrow to combat her skepticism._

_“It’s all highly theoretical.” Tina said. “Even for us, the thought of traveling through time is so highly improbable that getting close would be… impossible.” Tina dealt with near-impossible probabilities on a daily basis. Hell, she and Harrison both did. But this… this was a whole new ball game, and one that Tina wasn’t sure she wanted to play._

_“One word, Tina.” Harrison leaned forward, hands in front of him, palms facing outward. He parted them and said, “Tachyons.”_

_“Particles that move faster than light speed?”_

_“Yes, those!” Harrison was smiling now, coffee forgotten._

_“They’re entirely theoretical! No one has even gotten close.” Tina thinks of her young childhood self that thought about building a car that could go faster than light speed, just to see if the headlights would turn on. “But you have a hypothesis to test?”_

_“I have an idea for a prototype. And following that, if we could figure out how to_ create _a tachyon, ohhhhhhh Tina, if you could get something to travel faster than the speed of light, then theoretically that ‘something’ could cross time in the exact same way that we—” Harrison got up from the booth, and took a few quick steps. “—cross space!” Harrison stood there for a moment and sat back down to eagerly await Tina’s reaction._

_She didn’t disappoint._

_“The great Harrison Wells, breaking new ground in theoretical physics. I swear you will have your own book one day.” Tina smiled. She would happily edit it. “Does Tess know about this?”_

_“Not yet, I wanted to run it by you first.” Harrison told her. He picked up his mug again, calm enough to resume drinking._

_Tina’s thoughts were suddenly thrown back to when she first met Harrison in college. They were the only two first years who were enrolled in a particular 400 level physics course, so naturally, their individual worlds had been a lonely place. When the class became difficult, they banded together to pass, and did so in flying colors. Harrison and Tina still exchanged emails with that professor once or twice a year._

_“Well, you should absolutely tell her.”_

_“I want to name the building after her, actually. Technological Engineering and Scientific Studies.” Harrison explained proudly._

_“T.E.S.S.”_

_Harrison smiled._

_Tina shook her head at him, laughing. “You will never cease to be the biggest romantic sap I know. Some people adopt a dog or a cat and name it after their fiancée. You, on the other hand, have to go and make grandiose plans and name an accelerator complex after her.”_

_“…so you think she’ll like it?” Harrison took another sip to avoid saying anything more._

_Tina leveled her gaze at him, knowing he was being absolutely ridiculous. Anyone in their right mind would find that—_

_“—absolutely endearing.” Tina said. “Knowing her, she will find it absolutely endearing.”_

_The next thing Tina knew, Harrison Wells was honest-to-god_ blushing.

_“You’re still the biggest nerd I know.” Tina told him._

_“Well it got me the girl, didn’t it?”_

_“Yes, yes it did.” Tina answered, and held out her coffee mug in congratulations. Harrison clinked his mug against hers and finished off his mocha. He would need another. If there was one thing Tina knew about Harrison Wells, it was that he was irrevocably addicted to coffee, which probably explained why it was so easy for the two of them to go to Jitters every Tuesday._

_Harrison spoke up again, “Did I tell you I’m taking her back to Ireland on the honeymoon?”_

_~_

“Eobard?” Barry was waving his hand in front of the other man’s face, trying to get him to come back to reality. Eobard had zoned out a while ago, and while Barry had let him stew for a few minutes, waiting any longer felt… dangerous.

“Hmm?” Eobard said, returning.

“Your eyes were kinda glazed over.” Barry explained. “I’m just looking after you.”

Eobard looked back at him kindly. How the one and only Barry Allen cared for him at all was still beyond his realm of scientific reasoning, and that was a question he didn’t _need_ answered. It was better left to simply be _experienced._

“The sun is setting.” Eobard stated.

“Well, yes.” Barry looked at him quizzically. “It’s been doing that for a while now.”

“But that means I can take you to Temple Bar.”

“Take me where?”

“The place that Harrison Wells and Tess Morgan got absolutely wasted on their honeymoon, ended up setting a trashcan on fire for shits and giggles, and after the fire department showed up they ran back to their hotel and never told _anyone_.”

Barry looked properly horrified but grabbed Eobard’s hand.

“Lead the way, Thawne.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so the Cliffs of Moher are actually super awesome, and at their highest point reach 214 meters, so Eobard wasn't kidding when he said Barry was lucky to be thrown off one that was only 100 meters. Eobard is an asshole, yes, but he's not the _worst_ asshole. 
> 
> The stories about original Harrison Wells and Tess and Tina absolutely snuck up on me. They were _not_ in the outline, but when a story begs to be written... well, we all know how that turns out. I get the idea this won't be the last you see of Eobard "flashing back" per se. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! And thanks again to CardinalStar for beta-ing this and giving me silly thoughts like how Barry should get whacked in the face with a wave.


	6. Ireland (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Eobard finish up their adventures in Ireland with drinking, dancing, and a little adventure.

Eobard and Barry didn’t set any trashcans on fire, but they were presently having a drinking contest in the middle of the Temple Bar Pub. Surrounded by tourists and locals—but mostly tourists—Barry and Eobard clinked another pair of shot glasses and drank down yet another ounce each of Kilbeggan.

“That makes twelve,” Barry said.

“Does that mean you’re stopping?” Eobard asked, slamming his glass down on the wooden table.

"Not a chance, Thawne," Barry smirked, and signaled to the next pair of filled glasses in front of them.

Eobard picked his up and knocked it back before Barry could reach his own. The younger man glared and did the same.

The crowd applauded and cheered—and neither Barry nor Eobard could tell whose side they were on at this point—and more clinking sounded around the pub.

Barry made eye contact with Eobard in the chaos, and Eobard’s grin was lethal. Barry’s returning smile was equally deadly, and Eobard, honest to the Speedforce, started _laughing._

Barry briefly wondered if Eobard somehow slipped some fomepizole before they started drinking. But they both had drunk so much that if they _weren’t_ speedsters, they would probably be unconscious or dead. Eighteen shots in half an hour would absolutely kill a normal person, especially a lanky person like Barry.

Before Barry could signal for another flight of shots to be delivered to their table, the sound of the fiddle broke through the chaos.

The crowd was then roaring for an entirely different reason, and Eobard was thankful the focus was drawn away from himself and Barry so quickly.

The tin whistle and a flute joined in with a fiddle, and then the whole crowd was singing a sing that Eobard didn’t know, but _Harrison Wells_ did. He started singing, slowly, but soon with more force and gusto. Barry gawked at first but soon slipped an arm around Eobard's waist, leaning into him, and swayed with the rest of the crowd, which were all singing the same words as Eobard.

_“Our love was on the wing, we had dreams and songs to sing, It's so lonely round the fields of Athenry…”_

Barry was happy until Eobard once again refused to dance with him.

“Oh come on! We have real music now!” Barry whined. He was going to get Eobard dancing before the end of their tour—no race, it’s a _race_ —if it was the last thing he did. So Eobard and Barry entered into a staring contest. It didn’t last long. Eobard had started laughing again, looked away to the ceiling, and then said, “why not?”

Instantly, Barry smiled gleefully and grabbed Eobard's other hand, but it was yanked out of Barry's grip the second it was there.

“What is it?” Barry asked, confused. He tried to take Eobard’s arm again, and the older man pulled away once more.

“Follow my lead.” Eobard said.

And then _he started dancing a traditional jig._

If Barry hadn’t gawked at the singing he would have gawked at the dancing. But then Eobard was gesturing to Barry, then to his feet, then to Barry’s feet. Understanding, Barry fell into step with Eobard, and it really wasn’t that hard at all.

_Hop,_ Barry thought, _Hop Back, hop back 2-3-4. Hop, hop back, hop back 2-3-4…_

Being a speedster meant faster _everything,_ which meant faster thinking, which meant quicker _learning._

_Hop, hop back, hop back 2-3-4…_

Barry was synchronized with Eobard within minutes, and they kept dancing faster and faster until a stray red Speedforce bolt sparked off of Eobard. If Barry had blinked, he would have missed it.

“Eo…” Barry said warily, slowing down his steps, _hop back 2….3…4…_

Eobard fell into step at Barry’s speed then, getting the younger man’s drift before Barry could even say it.

They gathered a small crowd and danced a long time. By the end of it, there were others dancing with them, moving in rhythm with the two speedsters, and Eobard swore he reached another level of consciousness by the end of it.

Eobard _really_ loved Ireland.

~

"I feel like I just drank half of a hospital," Barry said, pulling Eobard out of the pub and into the street. They could only handle so much drunken singing and dancing.

“If it makes you feel better, back before I was a speedster,” Eobard began, “I was a _notorious_ lightweight.”

“You’re _kidding._ ” Barry laughed, “I just might have to give you some of Caitlin’s magic formula, and see just how much it takes…” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“I’m up for it, as long as I get to have my drunken way with you.” Eobard teased, gave him an overly exaggerated drunken look, and waggled his own eyebrows.

“Deal.” Barry held out his hand and tried not to laugh _too_ hard.

“Deal,” Eobard shook it, then pointed towards a distant street, Fishamble, he believed if the original Harrison Wells’ memories served correctly, “That was where Handel’s _Messiah_ was first performed. Maybe we can come back and see it sometime.” He explained.

Barry, as usual, had no idea what Eobard was talking about.

“What is that?” Barry started, regretting asking the second it happened. He inwardly rolled his eyes.

“It’s an _oratorio_ composed in the 1740s. It’s kind of like an opera, but there aren’t really characters.” Eobard paused to look at Barry, “have you heard of the _Hallelujah Chorus?_ ”

“Of course,” Barry replied, scoffing.

“It’s from Handel’s _Messiah._ ” Eobard enjoyed the recognition he saw on the younger man’s face, “But I won’t bore you with any more history.”

“You don’t bore me, Eo.”

“You sure? You do get glassy eyes sometimes.” Eobard said.

“That’s called me daydreaming to the sound of your voice—” Barry said dramatically with over enthusiasm that was out of proportion to the situation.

Eobard merely kissed him to shut him up.

“Daydream later,” Eobard leaned back, smiled. “Where to—”

Eobard was annoyingly cut off by a woman running through the alley next to them.

“There’s a man! With a gun!” She shouted as she ran past Eobard and Barry, “He’s chasing me!”

Eobard rolled his eyes, and the people that were chasing her promptly tripped on Eobard’s boot… and Barry’s.

A man and two women were on the cobblestones in a fraction of a second, and Eobard was in the act of crouching down and telling then how much of a _complete_ _idiot_ they were when he remembered that the woman said there was a—

_Click._ “Hold it right there,” A man said.

—gun.

Eobard realized when the three people on the ground started to scramble away that _they_ were also being chased by this gunman.

Barry snickered from next to Eobard, and rushed the man with the gun after tapping into the Speedforce, and disarmed him easily.

Eobard knocked him out because Barry wasn’t going to.

"Call 911," Barry ordered the people on the floor after glaring at Eobard.

“Barry, they have a different number here.” The older man corrected, and Barry flushed. He knew that.

“Well call whatever emergency number you have!” Barry said.

"He was an officer!" The woman shouted, pointing to the unconscious gunman on the floor.

Barry glared _again,_ at Eobard.

Eobard shrugged.

"Just call," Barry said, frustrated.

~

"Well, that was eventful." Eobard said, brushing the dirt off his kilt once they stopped speeding away.

It turns out the woman was running because the second group was trying to steal her purse, and _they_ were being chased by the _police officer_ because they’d been caught in the act of stealing.

“You knocked out a member of the Dublin Metropolitan Police _Eobard,_ of course, it's eventful."

Eobard brushed it off. He’d done worse and Barry knew it.

“So where are we going next?” Eobard returned to their earlier conversation.

“The ferry station," Barry said.

“The _what?”_

“The ferry station," Barry confirmed. “I have an idea.”

“I hope it doesn’t involve actually taking the ferry.” Eobard said.

“Trust me, you’ll like it.”

“Bar—”

Barry shushed him, dismissed the older man’s protests, and offered his hand to Eobard, who took it, and after a moment, let the younger man lead the way.

~

Eobard didn’t like water. He _really_ didn’t like water. Barry didn’t know this about Eobard yet, but he was about to. Maybe.

They stood at the ferry station. Barry had just paid their way with the STAR Labs card, and they were waiting for the ferry to arrive.

“Just fifteen minutes—” Barry saw the distant look in Eobard’s eyes, staring off into the water. “—Eo, what’s wrong?” Barry asked, grabbing his hand.

But Eobard was somewhere else.

~

_Running, running, running!_

_Eobard had stared over the expanse of water in front of him. The laws of physics said the man couldn't walk on water, which meant a man definitely couldn't run on water, but Eobard, while still very much a man, defied physics every day since his successful experiment._

_Eobard took off from the shore._

_There was a fraction of hesitation._

_Then the Speedforce pulled him._

_And it was like flying._

_It was_ beautiful.

_But then there was a wave. It was small, but Eobard didn’t see it coming. More accurately, he didn’t think it would have posed a threat. It was just a wa—_

_Eobard tripped, fell, and with the momentum of his running, his fall propelled him under the water and suddenly very,_ very _deep._

_It was dark where Eobard was, and he couldn’t find the light… and he couldn’t breathe…_

_He instinctively tapped into the Speedforce and like the genius he was—and wasn’t that ironic right about now—let time dilate._

Eobard you can do this, _he thought to himself, encouraging. He reassessed the situation. Everyone at the university always said he was too analytical, that he had issues connecting to others… issues making friends._

_If Eobard was being honest maybe he was a little antisocial._

_Eobard quit thinking these things and got back to the matter at hand, which included, first and foremost, not drowning._

_Eobard was suspended in the water, floating along, and he noticed water wasn’t going up his nose. He deducted he was oriented the right way up, even if he tumbled and flipped countless times along the way. He absentmindedly remembered hearing about the cat experiments involving tossing the animals off skyscrapers, and how the cats would still land on the ground oriented in the proper direction, maybe even able to survive—_

_—just like Eobard would be able to now._

_From there, still in the Speedforce, Eobard butterfly kicked at the speed of sound and raced towards what he prayed was the surface. His healing factor took care of the bends—and he didn’t even want to explore how_ that _was possible._

_He was still in the middle of the ocean, but he knew where land was. The sun would be in the east at this time of day, and the nearest landmass was to the north. Ever since Eobard became a speedster, he couldn’t shake the feeling of how_ small _the earth seemed, when he could cross great distances in seconds, sometimes less._

_He was on dry land again in a blink, and sat down, breathing heavily. That had been the scariest run of his life and while it was just the beginning of Eobard knowing true fear, for now, he could relax and know he was alive. He didn’t know how many times he would come to brush death in the days to come, but this? He never wanted to do this again. Ever._

_Future Eobard would have laughed at him, spat in his face, told him to get over himself because the world is cruel._

_But then, as he jumped in the air, dilated time, he screamed into the Speedforce, “thank fuck—_

_~_

_“—dry land.”_ Eobard murmured.

“What?” Barry asked, hand still in Eobard’s.

"Nothing, remind me to tell you about the first time I ran on water," Eobard instructed.

Barry looked at him funny, but nodded his head, “Sure.”

Barry tried tugging his hand again, urging Eobard forward, but Eobard didn’t move. “Aren’t you coming?” Barry asked.

Eobard gave a ‘hmmm’ noise.

“To the Ferry, last call to board.” Barry tugged his hand again, and a grin spread across his face, “The mighty Eobard Thawne, reverse to mine, is he— _chicken_?”

Eobard grabbed Barry’s hand harder and _Eobard_ dragged Barry onto the ferry.

“Sit.” Eobard ordered. He may have issues with water but he did _not_ like being called a coward.

Barry sat.

Eobard waited a few seconds, then sat next to him.

“We will talk about that later,”

“Gonna prove to me you aren’t chicken?”

“Barry, don’t push it.” Eobard warned.

“You got it _Professor Thawne._ ”

Eobard wanted to slam Barry into the nearest hard surface and tease him until he couldn't think, couldn't breathe and didn't know anything but Eobard’s name and the word _please._

But for now, Eobard refrained.

“Nice view.” Eobard said, nonchalantly changing the topic and trying to avoid that they were moving so _slowly_.

Barry was wary, but let Eobard grab his hand. Barry snuggled up closer to the older man, finding assurance in his warmth.

“Barry,” Eobard whispered.

“Hmm?” Barry replied.

“You are such a goddamn tease, you know that?” Eobard said.

“All you for, my liege.”

Eobard whacked him in the back of the head, just a light bump. Playful.

Barry laughed, and Eobard joined in with him.

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” Eobard stated, looking down at the younger man.

"I told you it's a surprise," Barry answered, and his tone told Eobard not to question him.

The ferry sailed on.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who's curious, [these](http://celtic-lyrics.com/lyrics/195.html) are the rest of the lyrics to the song they sang in the pub. 
> 
> Huge thanks to my friend I met at a conference over the summer who told me a few things about Dublin when I asked what--hypothetically of course--someone could do if they only had one day in Ireland. 
> 
> Other than that, any guesses where they are going next? ;)


	7. Interlude - Christmas in New York City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys, let's pretend that Eobard and Barry are forgoing their semi-orderly trek around the world and just backtracking to go to NYC for Christmas because why not? 
> 
> Enter fun Christmas shenanigans with appearances from some characters we haven't seen in a while.

“—I told you, we need to arrive through Penn Station!” Barry said.

“—Barry we are freaking _speedsters_ we can just run right into the city!” Eobard insisted, throwing his arms out.

Barry walked forward and stroked the yellow tripolymer of Eobard’s suit, soothing him, “I want to see the look on your face when you step out of the subway station. Like I did when I first vacationed here as a kid.”

Eobard huffed and grabbed Barry’s hands, kissing them each in turn, “Fine.”

"Alright, you ready?" Barry pulled his hands away from Eobard and took out his cell phone, opening Google Maps. He waited for it to load. Barry could have read through countless paper maps in the time it took to start up.

“Ready when you are,” Eobard scoffed when Barry had to restart the application and load it again. It was moments like this where Barry hated technology, “Did you ever think we could just run along the path of the train tracks?”

Barry looked up, “That hadn’t crossed my mind, no, and it would lead us—”

“—right into Penn Station,” Eobard finished and winked, “Bingo!”

Barry nodded, Eobard smiled, and then they were off, disappearing in twin flurries of lightning, running side-by-side. They ran, phasing through Amtrak trains that rode their way, and laughing as they did so. It seemed that the whole world was available within seconds and the faster Barry and Eobard became, the quicker they could transverse the physical plane.

“I love you!” Barry shouted into the lightning.

“I love you, too!” Eobard yelled back.

~

They reached Penn Station around noon. Barry had warned Eobard about how dark the train tunnels were, and how long they would be running beneath them. He also warned the other man that they would be running under water for part of the time. Eobard took it in stride.

"We aren't going to steal clothes again, are we?" Barry asked when they stopped.

Eobard winked.

“Eo… if we do, we’re going to be stuck with—” Barry felt a rush, “—I <3 NY t-shirts and sweatpants.”

Eobard held out the mentioned items, and Barry took them, huffing in minor annoyance that he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. His suit was back in his ring in a flash, and he was dressed in the clothes Eobard gave him equally as fast.

"Oh my god, we match," Barry said.

Eobard just grinned.

"We're getting better clothes as soon as possible," Barry said.

“Of course.” Eobard agreed, “now, which way to this marvelous city?”

Barry smiled and took Eobard’s hand. They slipped into the crowd as they went up several flights of steps, and then in a short amount of time for a human but a ridiculously long time for a speedster, they arrived in a subway station.

_34 ST Penn Station,_ Eobard read before Barry pulled him down a long and busy tiled corridor towards what Eobard could only assume to be the exit. Oddly enough, there was a breeze flowing down the hall. It was a little cooler than the air in the bottom of the station, so Eobard assumed they were getting close to the street.

“Won’t lie, this place is filthy,” Eobard said.

“Welcome to New York,” Barry grinned, “every inch of this place has been pissed, spat, or shat on.”

Eobard needed fresh air immediately. Lucky for him, the breeze around them intensified, and it got _cold._ Barry turned them sharply right towards a staircase at the end of the corridor, and then Eobard was walking straight into the frigid air of an overcast downtown Manhattan.

It was _amazing._

Buildings rose high above him, stories and stories of apartments and offices, more than Eobard could believe were possible this century. Back in his own time buildings were high, but they were organized and orderly, contemporary. There was more glass and less concrete in his home century. There was steel instead of stone. It was all the same to Eobard. But the buildings in New York were of differing architectural styles. There was so much _history_ here and Eobard wanted to learn it all.

But Barry was pulling Eobard forward again because they had to keep moving because those around them were moving so _fast_. It was Christmas after all.

Barry hopped over a traffic barrier and urged Eobard to do the same. The older man was still in awe of how _big_ everything was when they made it to Times Square, which was bright even in daylight.

“—and over there is the Disney store, and there’s some food—” Barry was talking. Eobard was half-listening, still taking it all in.

“—Bubba Gumps? What’s that?” Eobard felt his belly grumble as he read one of the many bright, neon signs.

"It's a chain restaurant that sells shrimp," Barry answered.

“We should go eat there.”

“But it’s a chain and we’re in New York City—”

Eobard pinned him with a glare.

“Ah, okay, Bubba Gumps it is.” Barry led them towards the restaurant. Eobard was hungry, and honestly, Barry had never been to a Bubba Gumps either, so he too was a stranger to the place.

“Do you have shrimp in your time?” Barry asked when they walked through the door.

“Of course Barry, don’t be an idiot.” Eobard scoffed.

The two speedsters ended up eating not one, but _six_ appetizer shrimp platters. They ordered three desserts and stopped after that to not draw too much attention. Barry suggested they go to a food truck if Eobard was still hungry.

He wasn’t.

~

They changed clothes on Fifth Avenue—"Why not? It's New York, Barry!"—and headed to Central Park where they beheld a true Christmas miracle.

"Mick, stop shooting your gun so close to my ice rinks!"

“Snart, the people need to warm up after you’ve iced their asses—”

“—no one’s asses are getting iced! They’re skating _on_ the ice—”

“—same difference! If—”

Eobard and Barry came to a stop equidistant between the two villains—even though they weren't really villains today—and Eobard started clapping.

“Leonard Snart and Mick Rory,” Eobard greeted, “what are two men like you doing this far East?”

“I could say the same to you _Eobard Thawne,”_ Snart spat but then his expression changed to a smile, “what are you and Scarlet doing here?”

“You first,” Barry interjected.

"Vacation," Mick answered, not even looking at Barry. “Your turn, Yellow.”

“Also vacation,” Eobard said, bristling a little at the nickname.

"Well, it looks like we are in agreement boys. Happy holidays,” Snart said, and pointed his gun at Barry, “I’d shoot you, but it’s _Christmas,_ and I’m going to assume you celebrate that since it will give me a reason to _not_ shoot you.”

Leonard subsequently lowered his gun and aimed it at a flat patch of ground behind Barry. They beam skirted by Barry’s pant leg by a hair and artfully formed an improvised skating rink.

Barry then noticed that all around Central Park were patches of ice in safe, isolated locations, and all sorts of people were skating on them. Nearby every patch was a small and contained wood fire where marshmallows were being roasted. Barry was pretty sure he saw a hot dog being cooked in the distance. It seemed that Captain Cold and Heatwave were actually… doing good for this community.

Eobard smirked—coming to the same conclusion as Barry—and tastefully nodded at Snart and Rory.

“Do you skate?” Eobard asked Leonard.

"Oh hell no," was his reply. "My sister does, though, maybe you'll see her around," Leonard gestured to the greater area around him, "she's in here somewhere. We decided that the people of Central City wouldn't be as… appreciative of our efforts as the people of New York and the NYPD doesn't have us on their wanted list, so if you could…”

“…not turn you in?” Barry finished for him.

“ _Exactly,”_ Leonard said.

“Good thing we weren’t planning to,” Eobard said, cracking a smile.

Mick seemed a little put off by that, but Leonard’s expression revealed nothing.

“Now _Barry,”_ Leonard gestured for him to walk closer. Barry did. “I do have a present for you.”

“You do?” Barry was absolutely confused. Eobard was tensed.

“Well, it’s not a _thing,”_ the villain paused, “but I was wondering…do you want to shoot it?”

“Shoot…?”

“My Cold Gun, you Scarlet idiot,” Leonard rolled his eyes and whacked Barry on the shoulder.

“Oh!” Barry thought about it—taking a speedster minute to do so—and decided that _yes,_ he did want to shoot it, “yeah, I’d like that.”

“Just don’t shoot me.” Leonard instructed, then gestured to Mick, “or him.”

Mick waved.

"Aye aye, Captain!" Barry said, and he was answered with a glare from Snart.

"I can't hear you," Eobard whispered, and Snart glared at him too. Eobard merely laughed.

Snart carefully handed Barry the gun after making sure he wouldn't fire it at a person on accident and placed the goggles carefully over Barry's eyes where the speedster adjusted them.

“I’d give you my parka, but it’s cold out here, kid.” Snart said. “I don’t know how you do it.”

"Really weird science," Mick said.

Soon Barry was aiming the weapon at a bare patch of grass that Snart had pointed to. He fired, and found that the Cold Gun had a negligent kick, and the beam seemed endless. Ice crystallized over the grass and Barry moved it so that the spread of ice was even on the ground. A father and child were waiting nearby, skates on and ready. They took to the ice the second Barry finished firing and had pointed the gun back at the ground, finger away from the trigger.

“So?” Leonard asked, taking back the gun and the goggles.

“That was… _cool._ ” Barry grinned.

Leonard clapped him on the back, “Merry Christmas, Barry.”

“You too, Snart.”

Eobard rejoined Barry then and the two speedsters laced their hands together.

“Hey, Red?” Mick’s voice called.

Barry and Eobard turned around simultaneously.

“Yeah?” Barry yelled back.

“You’re still out of marshmallows.”

“ _Shut up, Mick!”_ Leonard’s voice growled out, and walked the two of them away, more or less dragging Mick behind him.

“So if you’re Scarlet and I’m Yellow,” Eobard began when they were sufficiently away from the villains, “what does that mean?”

Barry followed that thought to its natural conclusion.

“It means that I’ll make orange with you later,” Barry winked.

Eobard kissed him in the middle of the sidewalk and almost walked the two of them straight into some scaffolding.

~

Eobard longed to _run._ Seeing all the long streets framed by tall buildings… it reminded him of Central City, just a little bit, but he knew those streets in and out. He didn’t know these.

God, Eobard just wanted to _learn._

The manifestation of these thoughts was a simple buzz in Eobard’s hand, and Barry turned to him once he felt it.

“You doing good, Eo?” He asked.

“Fantastic,” Eobard answered, and it was the truth. Barry and he hadn’t shared many Christmases together, but this one would be remembered, “Where are we—”

Before Eobard could finish speaking, a water-like globular manifestation appeared in the air before them, and it grew until the two speedsters realized it was a _breach._

"Oh shit," Barry said. Eobard shoved Barry behind him, preparing for the worst, only to see Cisco the genius and his grumpy sidekick jump out of it.

"Oh you have got to be kidding me," Eobard said, relaxing minutely.

"I told you it would work!" Cisco poked Harry in the chest as he ripped off his vibing goggles.

“Ramon, latching onto an individuals vibration—especially a speedster’s—and using that to teleport you _directly to them should not have worked!”_ Harry argued back.

“But it did!”

“Okay fine, you ready?” Harry leaned towards Cisco.

“You bet,” the younger man grinned.

The two ‘breachers' finally addressed Eobard and Barry and broke into song.

By the time Cisco and Harry were well into singing the twelve days of Christmas—and at one point they were miming holding instruments and doing solos with them—Eobard and Barry had joined in along withwas a small horde of New Yorkers. However, despite the earlier vigor, the crowd dispersed pretty quickly after Cisco and Harry finished their song.

“Nice of you to drop by,” Eobard said, addressing Harry directly, and held out his hand.

Neither Cisco nor Barry knew that Eobard and Harry had a secret handshake until that moment.

What’s worse was that it wasn’t even _really_ a handshake. It was more like a set of mirrored actions that loosely resembled a handshake. When they finished—entirely aware of Cisco and Barry’s eyes on them—they gave each other a perfectly executed high five.

“You guys have taken the doppelganger thing _way_ too far,” Cisco said.

“Hey, you know you would have figured out something with Reverb if he hadn’t turned out to be evil,” Harry defended.

"Well, technically your doppelganger _was_ evil.” Barry said, “he’s reformed now, but technically—”

“Not helping, Barry!” Harry snapped back, “We’re just glad we found you two. We didn’t know where you would be, with all the world traveling and such, so Cisco and I decided to… experiment a little.”

“Long story short,” Cisco explained, “I had Barry’s base resonance stored in _here_ —” Cisco pointed to the goggles, “—and was able to use it to find you guys. Thanks for not… currently running by the way.”

"That would have sucked," Harry added.

"So are you two planning on staying and getting food or…?" Eobard asked.

“Actually we were thinking of heading to Earth-19 to say hi to HR since our ‘interdimensional caroling’ idea actually worked." Cisco answered as he slipped his goggles back on, "maybe after that we could say hi to Supergirl on Earth-38 and Jay Garrick on Earth-3."

“Ah, well you’re always welcome to come find us again if you need someone to eat with,” Eobard put his arm around Barry and tugged him to his side. Barry went willingly and put his head on Eobard’s shoulder, “we’re always hungry.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Harry said, “Good to see you, Eobard. Don’t get in too much trouble, okay?” He winked, and Eobard _winked back._

Cisco saw the whole thing. "Doppelgangers are weird, man."

“You’re telling me,” Barry said, thinking back to when Bartholomew gave him the motivation to phase out of Zoom’s speedster prison. That had been… weird. Helpful, but still very weird.

"But dude, you should have seen the look on Harry's face when I vibed myself into his office earlier," Cisco said.

"Of course the great Harrison Wells would work on Christmas," Barry said, and Eobard poked him in the ribs.

“Evil doesn’t take days off,” Harry reasons.

"Actually," Barry stepped out of Eobard's arm, straightening himself up and taking Eobard's hand instead, "Eo and I saw Captain Cold and Heatwave in Central Park making improvised skating rinks and marshmallow roasting fires."

“ _You saw Captain Cold and Heatwave?”_ Cisco exclaimed, pushing his goggles up to look at Barry fully, “what on earth are they doing this far east?”

“Vacation,” Barry said.

“Barry, you know what happened last time Cold made that excuse…” Cisco warned.

Barry merely laughed. “No seriously, they just wanted to do some good stuff for the holidays where no one would arrest them.”

“Okay, but when the headline _New York City goes up in Flames_ appears on my news feed, I'll know who to tell ‘I told you so' to," Cisco put his goggles back on. Harry double checked the tweaks he made for good measure, but the two visitors were ready to go soon enough.

“Merry Christmas!” Cisco said.

“Merry Christmas!” Barry called back.

A breach flooded open, and Cisco moved to step through it.

“You know,” Harry began, “It’s not just Eobard and I that have that ‘handshake’.”

Cisco's exclamation of frustration was the last thing the two speedsters heard before Cisco and Harry disappeared.

“Do the three of you really all know that thing?” Barry asked Eobard.

“Again, like Harry said, not just us,” Eobard answered, leaving things—as usual—to interpretation.

~

They found Lisa Snart ice-skating in Rockefeller Center with none other than Caitlin Snow next to her. Barry and Eobard, while not very good at skating because it was too slow, still wanted to see the skyline from the 'Top of the Rock', and Barry had told Eobard he at least had to see the famous ice-skating rink that was put up every year.

“Lisa!” Barry shouted, and she glided over to him, Caitlin in tow, “I thought you’d be back in Central Park with your brother!”

"Oh, you saw Lenny?" Lisa asked, "That's wonderful! I hope he and Mick are up to no good."

"Nope, just up to good," Barry informed with a smile, "But Caitlin… hey?"

She waved weakly at him. “Lisa and I were texting and she said it was stupid that I had ice powers but didn’t know how to ice skate.” Caitlin explained, “But now I know!”

Caitlin pushed off the wall—leaving a few frosted fingerprints behind—and skated in a small circle to show off her new skills. She glided back, and smoothly came to a stop in her former spot next to Lisa.

"I also figured I needed to get away from Central City for a while, so she and I are splitting a room. Leonard and Mick are in the room next to us, though, so that's… interesting." Caitlin continued, frosting and defrosting her fingertips while she spoke.

"What she's trying to say is they're loud and she doesn't like it," Lisa said.

Caitlin flicked a fingernail sized ice shard in her direction. Lisa flinched and giggled.

“But what are you two up to? I figured you’d be in Paris or something.” Caitlin asked.

“Already did that one,” Barry answered.

“What about Ireland?” Caitlin continued.

“That one too.” Eobard told them.

“Okay… what about _London?”_

Eobard and Barry turned to each other. London wasn’t such a bad idea at all.

“Not yet,” Barry said, “I think that just might be our next stop.”

Lisa took that as a cue to chime in, “Lenny and I once pulled a lovely heist in London, so be sure to say hi to the ‘Crown Jewels’ for us.”

“Lisa…. Why did you put the ‘Crown Jewels’ in quotes?” Caitlin asked, suspicion in her voice.

“No reason,” Lisa dismissed, and then skated away.

“Answer me, Lise!" Caitlin shouted, scrambling to push off from the wall, “you two have a Merry Christmas,” She told the speedsters and chased after a giggling Lisa before Barry and Eobard could say they wished her the same.

~

As Barry had suspected, Eobard did enjoy the view from the ‘Top of the Rock’. They’d been walking all day and while Eobard had seen most of the city, he’d seen it from the ground. By the time they’d gotten through the line to get to the elevators, it was night time outside.

"Everything seems so small now," Eobard said, looking out over the city. Barry was at his side with his fingers laced with Eobard's, "it seems so big down there, you know?" Eobard pointed down at the ground. He couldn't even focus on a person if he wanted to _._

Barry laughed, “yeah, you’re reacting how I did. It’s kind of crazy really, to think that we were down there not a few hours ago.”

They stood for a long moment, watching the city around them. They saw the lights of the bridges over the Hudson, the alternating green and red lighting of the Empire State Building, and the distant illumination of New Jersey. Eobard and Barry were above the noise of the city, away from the crowds, and it was a certain kind of quiet and peaceful that Eobard would never be able to replicate.

“Sorry I didn’t get you anything for Christmas,” Eobard told Barry.

Barry leaned back his head and stared, “Eo, you’re alive, happy, and you love me. I don’t know what else I could ask for.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, Barry,” Eobard said, and kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone who read this has a wonderful holiday! 
> 
> And yes, Lisa and Len totally stole the Crown Jewels and replaced them with fakes. 
> 
> Next stop, London! 
> 
> <3 you all and thanks always for the comments, kudos, and continuing support of this fic!

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo thanks for reading! I'm [GideonShipsIt](gideonshipsit.tumblr.com) on tumblr if you wanna blab or have any questions. Keep Calm and Flash on <3


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